Chapter Text
There's nothing quite like the body-consuming thrill that comes from standing on a stage with scorching spotlights beating down, music that comes from the soul, and a crowd focused only on the here and the now. No matter the size, no matter the place, Chuuya loves to perform. Not in a superficial, self-centered way, but in a 'I get to share a piece of myself with these people that can never be replicated’ kind of way. Every audience gets to experience a different piece of his heart, and hopefully go home better for it.
The stage that they just stepped down from is located in an "underground" club where relatively unknown punk rock artists perform for whatever drunken party goers decide to call the establishment their home for the night. It's a well-kempt little place with a decent sized bar and acoustics that don't make him want to throw himself head-first off the stage. Plus, the staff is always welcoming to his band.
Playing in a place like this is good for group morale, Chuuya tells them every time the venue ends up virtually empty. Some nights are certainly more active than others, but tonight is on the greater end of that spectrum. They received a warm reception and a decent sized crowd of people asking about their albums, where their music can be streamed—a few even asked them for photographs which made all four members giddy on the inside.
As the next group began their set, the crowds thinned out, leaving the four musicians huddled in a corner. They had to shout over the music to hear each other from a scant few feet away: something that Chuuya has always loved about a bustling place like this. You can feel the beat shake your organs like the musical waves flow right through your whole body.
"You guys going to hang around tonight?" Chuuya asks, skimming the bar for open spots. If there isn't anywhere to sit, he might hang back against the wall to catch a little bit of this performance before slipping out. It's nearly eleven at night and Kouyou—despite her insisting that it doesn't matter—needs to be relieved from her duties before midnight.
Ryunosuke makes a contemplative sound, completely drowned out by the thundering drum beats. "We'll leave before it gets rowdy."
Gin nods in agreement, zipping the case on her base guitar. Tachihara stretches dramatically, hands above his head before shrugging.
"I'm gonna head out too. Got a hot date after this."
"Yeah, right." Gin teases, smacking his shoulder lightly. Despite her reaction, Chuuya spots the blush creeping up her neck when he winks at her. Those two are way too cute for their own good.
"By a hot date you mean a study session." Ryunosuke deadpans, the muscles along his temple flexing like he's grinding his teeth.
Chuuya wants to tease them further, but he's a little concerned that the elder Akutagawa is going to ban Tachihara from their home if he does. This show in particular was physically and mentally taxing since they had to match the audience's energy (which is a very good thing). Instead of pointing a finger and laughing right in their faces, he nods once in understanding.
They say their goodbyes and go their separate ways, instruments secured. Chuuya's guitar strap is snug across his body, a sensation he's been accustomed to since he was a teenager. Walking without the faux hug makes him feel naked and exposed.
"Hey, pretty thing!" A guy whistles sharply as Chuuya approaches the bar. He expects to see the usual, sweet woman pouring liquors, but the person that stands there now is a brunet. The usual is a blonde. "Pour us another round, would ya? And serve it to us with a couple less layers this time."
They're alphas, no mistaking that raunchy, obnoxious attitude with any other secondary-gender. His friends laugh and whistle in union, a couple even smack their hands on the bar's surface. This new bartender looks like a woman: tall but slender, a cinched waist accentuated by the apron tied around it, hair that rests just above her shoulders—on the shorter side. There are cotton bandages covering her neck and what exposed skin can be seen below her rolled up sleeves.
She tosses a noise over her shoulder before laying out six shot glasses on the counter. Chuuya has a terrible angle to see what she's pouring, but the way she holds those bottles indicates that she's an incredibly seasoned bartender. As the glasses fill, the men become more rowdy, their fists smashing against the counter, provoking the woman with demands that she refer to them by horrid petnames, asking overtly personal questions. Then finally, she speaks.
"You good-for-nothings want it all on the same tab?"
Wow, definitely not a woman. That voice belongs to a man.
Chuuya spots an open seat a couple steps away from the idiots and decides to snatch it, slipping onto the barstool with practiced, easy precision. Okay, so the bartender is a guy. A beautiful guy wearing black pants, an apron, and a black shirt with only bandaged forearms visible. His hair is a pretty, deep brown and there are bangs tucked off to the side with a silly looking bee hair clip.
Something inside of Chuuya twists, a pleasant squeeze that he hasn't felt in years.
"Come on!" One of the drunkards pleads, his hands clasped together in a pathetic looking prayer. It appears Chuuya missed some bits of conversation while he was ogling. "An omega like you needs a big, strong alpha to watch over you. I can be that man."
"An omega like me?" The bartender coaxes, watching as three of the men down their shots. His voice is smooth, almost how Chuuya would imagine a pour of whiskey to sound could it speak. "What, do I look that fragile?"
For a split second, the man makes eye contact with Chuuya and offers an abandoned little smile, acknowledging that he saw him roll up.
"You look like a big fat cock could solve all your problems." One of them suggests crudely, slipping three thousand yen across the counter as a sort of offering. The display makes Chuuya want to puke.
But the bartender hums, picks up the currency, tucks it into the pocket on his dress shirt, then leans across the counter to say, "let me know if you find an alpha who can help me with that."
He leaves that man flustered and slightly annoyed while his friends make fun of him for shooting his shot in the dark, then moves down a few seats until he's standing right in front of Chuuya. A little napkin emerges from his apron as the man leans in so they don't have to scream over the music.
"Hey, hot stuff. What'll you be drinking tonight?"
Oh, his voice is even nicer when spoken directly at him. Chuuya's brain stutters in place as every single alcoholic drink name takes a nosedive right out of his head. "Uh…"
The bartender—his nametag says 'Dazai'—cocks an eyebrow, head tilting like a cat. That easy-going grin hasn't left his face since he approached.
"Can I… a lemon chu-hi?" Chuuya wants to smack himself upside the head, why is he acting like a teenager talking to their crush on the playground? He's seen plenty of beautiful men out there, but… there's something different about Dazai. His presence is more… consuming.
"A chu-hi, huh?" Dazai ponders as he pulls out a glass and grabs the shochu from the rack behind him. "You don't strike me as the fruity type."
There's definitely a double meaning behind those words if the smirk that accompanies them is any indicator.
"What do I strike you as?"
"A wine guy." Chuuya snorts, the cogs in his brain starting to turn again. Dazai grins at the response, eyeballing an ounce and a half of liquor in the glass now filled with ice. "So am I correct?"
"How did you get that?"
Watching Dazai's fingers glide across the glassware, each movement calculated and practiced, is hypnotizing in a way. "For one, your skin looks quite nice. People who drink liquors like these regularly often look ten years older. Secondly, given the music you played up there, I imagine that you get home and want to achieve a subdued kind of buzz. Therefore, wine is on your menu."
Chuuya has never been pegged so easily before, though he has to admit that Dazai's reasoning behind the diagnosis is spot on. Chuuya looks rough around the edges wearing black leather bell bottom jeans that Gin forced him to buy (which he ended up loving), a nearly see-through mesh top that hugs his muscles like it was tailored for his torso alone, and a shiny red leather harness that only draws more attention to his pecks. Tack on the usual fingerless gloves and choker and Chuuya looks like a guy who never left that teenage 'angst phase'.
It's like Dazai is reading straight from the 'Nakahara Chuuya' manual as he sizes him up.
"That's impressive." The redhead chuckles warmly, a sense of ease washing over him as he bathes in more and more of Dazai's presence. Even here, among the crowded atmosphere with insane guitar riffs cutting through the air like a freshly sharpened knife, Dazai has a profound effect on him. Distantly, Chuuya wonders if he's wearing any scent blockers or if those are simply his natural, soothing pheromones peeking through the overwhelming smell of liquors on the bar.
"Yes, well," Dazai shakes the drink in a stainless steel shaker then pours it over a fresh glass of ice with sugar on the rim, finishing it off with a lemon wedge. The drink looks like something out of a movie, picture perfect and neatly crafted. Dazai pops a straw in it then slides it across the counter. "I'm impressive."
Endearing. "How much do I owe you?"
Dazai's dark brown eyes scan him up and down then land back on his face. "It's on the house tonight. For a job well done performing."
Chuuya opens his mouth to protest, but those meathead alphas start snapping to get Dazai's attention again, so he merely winks then slips down the line. For the first time, Chuuya looks at the napkin that his drink was placed on and gasps.
There's a telephone number written in small, neat letters on the edge of it.
Holy shit, he's bold.
"I told you to stay out and enjoy your night, we've been fine here." Kouyou scolds as she stands in the genkan, slipping her shoes on with an elegance only she has perfected. The time is twelve-thirty, and while Chuuya would have loved to be home sooner, the encounter with Dazai made his trip to the bar drag a little longer than expected.
"I know, but you deserve to go out and do things for yourself. I really appreciate you staying over."
The woman tsks under her breath, then ruffles Chuuya's hair slightly. Enough to make his bangs tangle. "Any time you need it, I'm here."
They exchange a few more words and a tight hug before Kouyou shuts the door behind herself with her purse in hand. Chuuya locks it, powers off the television and deposits a couple of dishes in the sink for the following morning before climbing the stairs toward the bedrooms. He definitely needs a shower before bed, but first…
When Chuuya pushes the colorful door open, he feels a wave of calm wash over him. All of the walls are painted light green with delicately crafted murals of various wild animals (courtesy of Hirotsu), and almost all of the furniture inside is themed to look like a rainforest. The focal point of the room is a bed with a canopy over it, sheer fabric draped to hide his most precious gem.
A three year-old Sakura snores peacefully, wrapped up in more blankets than necessary for the current ambient temperature. After Chuuya started nesting for her—no, alphas usually don't nest, but with no omega in the picture Chuuya pieced it together through online articles and videos—Sakura insisted that she keep a nest in her very own bed. Sometimes she invites Chuuya inside for snuggles during thunderstorms, other times she wants to keep it as neat and tidy as possible. Depending on the day, Chuuya goes with the flow.
On quiet, feather-light feet, Chuuya tiptoes inside until he can carefully peel back the canopy. He leans down and kisses the little girl's forehead, grinning when she mumbles in her sound sleep. This is what Chuuya does it for: why he pulls extra hours at his side-job and works his ass off in the studio to sell as many albums as possible. Because at home there's a sweet child who always welcomes him back with open arms and a toothy grin no matter how his day was.
After tucking her snugly into her blankets, Chuuya disappears from her room like a shadow, as if he never entered to begin with. In the hallway, he leans against the wall, letting out a somewhat dreamy sigh. Sakura dropped into his arms unexpectedly—he hadn't even known the omega he was briefly with birthed a pup. Despite the circumstances and initial fear, she turned out to be the best thing that's ever happened to him. Her mother (this was before Chuuya realized that he's gay) wants nothing to do with either of them and while it's disappointing, he's long since vowed to give her everything she could possibly need without that maternal figure in the picture.
Having an omega in the picture…
Wordlessly, Chuuya fishes the crumpled up napkin out of his pocket and stares at the digits. When did Dazai even write them there? How long with that napkin tucked away in his pocket with messy scrawl across the edge? Was he the only one to ever receive it?
Chuuya sighs, head thumping against the wall.
The last time he was on a real date had to have been two and a half years ago right before Sakura arrived into the picture. He never sought out men because he has a stack of priorities and chasing a love life has long since been buried at the bottom. Dazai probably got the wrong idea and assumed that because he's the singer in a punk group he was a playboy; it wouldn't be the first time someone made that mistake.
But Dazai was… different. Being near him brought a slew of emotions that Chuuya can't put a name to, but the thing he knows for sure is that he wants to see him again. And again and again and again. Wants to hear what he sounds like when he whispers playfully, listen to his giggle, see the flush on his cheeks when compliments are thrown back at him with as much ferocity as he dishes them out.
Before he can talk himself out of it, Chuuya pulls his phone from his pocket, opens the message app, then punches in the phone number.
Chuuya: you're really bold leaving your number on my napkin.
Dazai responds no more than three minutes later.
Dazai: I've been waiting to meet someone that I wanted to give that napkin to. Looks like you won the competition.
Yeah, Chuuya is definitely about to fall into the deep end.
A month.
It takes a full month of texting back and forth for Chuuya to work up the gall to accept a date proposal. Between his part-time job, studio time with the band, and gnawing anxiety over whether or not bringing a man around his daughter would be detrimental to her three-year-old brain, Chuuya has been rather preoccupied. For what it's worth, Dazai has been incredibly respectful: never pushing Chuuya to meet up beyond the stilted 'sorry, I can't today' that the alpha always sends.
Finally, after some coaxing from Kouyou and the entirety of his band, Chuuya accepted the latest date offer. Nothing fancy, just some family owned sushi place in the back alleys of Yokohama—a sort of hole in the wall. He put on some skinny jeans without tears and a simple button down shirt tucked into his pants with full leather leather gloves, choker, and hat, then headed out into the unknown. The first date he's been on in far too long.
The entire drive was filled with nerves, second-guessing, and constant encouraging talks to keep him from flipping around and going right back home. Life is so different now: he isn't a bachelor running the streets in search of a raucous party, he's a father. If Dazai is in this for a quick hook up, he'll have to go looking elsewhere because Chuuya doesn't have the time to get attached or mess around.
Sakura comes first, music and his career a close second. Despite the clear hierarchy, Dazai feels… like he could be something special, something that Chuuya needs.
If he can behave himself, that is.
The first thing that Chuuya picked up on when they sat down at the table with menus laid out flat, is that Dazai is a massive flirt. He caught a glimpse of that at the bar when they first met and even the handful of times that Chuuya has seen him at the same place after recent gigs, but this? Dazai's flirtation has gone up ten-fold.
Shamefully, it's working, too.
Chuuya is getting roped in with fanciful words, coy eyes, long fingers that wrap around glass cups so elegantly, and perfect plump lips that kiss the rim as he drinks. Dazai is hypnotizing, beautiful in every single way. If he's being honest, Chuuya is a little ashamed of how strongly he feels toward the man he's only seen a handful of times in passing. The attraction is all physical (at least that's what Chuuya keeps telling himself), but whatever seed was originally planted has continued to bloom despite their lack of contact.
"How often are you in the studio recording?"
The alpha snaps out of it, clearing his throat as his eyes flicker down to the menu. "Oh, three times a week minimum. We aim for five days, but studio fees are outrageous."
Dazai hums across the table, turning the page of the menu with precise fingers. "You're very dedicated."
"I am," Chuuya agrees, watching Dazai's brows furrow and eyes squint as he reads the menu. Huh. Does he need glasses? "Making it big isn't easy. So far, all of our big breaks have been made up of pure luck. Not that we aren't good, but it's tough catching attention when there are so many other bands on the prowell."
"Really? I wouldn’t think it to be all that hard with someone like you on the battlefront."
Just as Chuuya’s face turns a miserable shade of pink, the waiter arrives so the pair gives their drink and starter orders, keeping one menu in case the first course doesn't fill them up. When the man leaves, they both look at each other contemplatively before Chuuya blurts out the first thing that comes to mind, desperate to not let Dazai continue on his precious train of thought.
"How long have you been a bartender?"
"A few years. I'm a native to Yokohama, but I’ve been working private events under an agency up until a few months ago. I wanted to experience a change in scenery, so I took the job at the club."
"Do you like music?"
Dazai shrugs noncommittally. "I've never been one for the music they play there," Chuuya tries to put those nagging thoughts aside—the ones that scream he can't be with someone who isn't passionate about the sound he creates. "But yours was different. It spoke to me in a way other artists haven't."
Stupidly, that makes his heart flutter more frantically. Knowing that his music could touch someone is all he does it for.
"Thank you for that. It means a lot to hear it could have an effect on you."
"You have an effect on me, not just your music."
Heat crawls up Chuuya's neck again, stopping just below his choker. "Do I?"
Dazai shifts in his chair, looking proud of himself for getting a reaction out of his date. "Of course. I wouldn't have asked you out if you didn't."
"I suppose that's a good point."
As though giving him a moment of reprieve, Dazai focuses on the menu again, muttering about desserts that the restaurant serves. While skimming through the page, he nibbles on the straw of his water, even goes so far as to subtly roll it around his tongue. He has to be doing that on purpose, right?
Ten minutes later, their drinks come out. Fifteen more minutes and their sushi makes its way to the table. The food is surprisingly good for the price and conversation flows easier than water through an open dam. Dazai is cunning, funny, clearly intelligent, although he also likes to poke fun at Chuuya like he's learning how to get a rise out of him.
It's all playful, easy-going. Dazai feels like a long lost friend or a puzzle piece that fits perfectly into one of Chuuya's many fractured gaps. By the time dessert lands on the table, the redhead is utterly enchanted, swept away by emotions laid dormant for years.
Maybe this man really will be a problem.
Every single touch singes like an open flame licking his skin, leaving full-thickness burns in their wake. Vanilla chai floats through the room, thick enough that Chuuya can't breathe properly. Every inhale coats the surface of his lungs, yet somehow, he takes in more and more through an open mouth, revelling in the thrum that rolls along his body when that scent distributes into his bloodstream.
Dazai is everywhere: impassioned, drowning Chuuya in a nebulous of wonder where all that remains is this perfect omega with a fanciful tongue and graceful fingers that pull at every string imaginable. On his knees, he looks like a dream; big brown eyes staring up through thick lashes while his lips wrap around the tip of Chuuya's cock. The alpha hisses as Dazai sucks gently, clearly pleased.
"Gods, look at you," Chuuya marvels, rocking his hips just enough to make Dazai take the tip completely in his mouth. "You get a lot of practice on your knees?"
Dazai flushes, shifting to get closer. His arms are bound together behind his back, limiting his range of motion beyond little shuffles, but Chuuya likes him this way. Almost helpless. He could do whatever he wanted and Dazai would have to take it.
Obediently, Dazai doesn't pull off to answer the question: he hasn't been given permission. He's good at following directions, Chuuya notes gleefully.
Slowly, he takes a few inches into his mouth, moaning around his dick like he's the one being sucked off. Dazai humps the air pitifully when Chuuya yanks his head backward, almost like it's an immediate, natural reaction. His smaller cock bounces between his spread thighs, fully erect and utterly ignored. Chuuya snickers at the sight, thumb tracing shapes along his partner's jaw.
"You're pathetic. But you already know that, don't you, Dazai?"
The aforementioned man nods wildly, whimpering loudly. Gods, Chuuya can't believe that someone this perfect exists. Without thinking, he thrusts his hips forward and shivers at the cut-off gag that comes from below. Immediately, Dazai sinks down on his cock again, chasing that lightheaded feeling that comes when air can't quite make it into his chest. When Chuuya snaps his hips again, the omega rocks on his knees, a tiny puddle of slick appearing on the ground underneath him.
"I see. You like it when I'm rough."
Frantically, he nods again.
Chuuya grins devilishly and cradles the back of his head, cooing when Dazai's jaw goes completely slack. So compliant, so ready to please. Waves of domestic fondness wash over him, pooling at his ankles and working all the way up to his shoulders. As he's about to be swept under the current, Chuuya fucks Dazai's mouth as a distraction. Anything to keep his brain from turning this burning desire into something mushy—and terrifying.
Nowhere along the line was this supposed to happen: Chuuya wasn't supposed to fall head over heels, he wasn't meant to open his heart to this smartass, conniving omega like it was the most natural thing in the world. Yet here he is, staring down into Dazai's foggy eyes with enough affection to bury both of them alive.
The omega's fingers dig into his own skin as he tries to create a rhythm with Chuuya's thrusts to meet him half way. Tightness coils in the pit of the alpha's stomach, something dangerous and overwhelming. Sparks start at his fingertips and glide up every muscle until his head buzzes, threatening to overload if he doesn't find release soon.
That voice in his head is achingly familiar: that of his territorial alpha pointing down and saying 'see? A perfect omega ready for the taking. Look how his neck is wide open. That's an invitation. Claim him, mark him, take your cock out of his mouth, sink your teeth into his shoulder, and fuck that pretty ass until he's begging for you to stop.'
In a weak attempt at silencing the voice, Chuuya opens his mouth to mutter words of praise, but they come out feeble and incoherent.
'He wants you. See how he's staring at you right now? He wants your knot. He's so fucking desperate for it. So give him what he wants. Knot him.'
Chuuya shakes his head, eyes squeezing shut while his cock in Dazai's open mouth pushes deeper, and starts to fill out a little. If he doesn't stop soon…
'Stuff him full of your pups. He'd look beautiful carrying them. Big and round, complaining constantly. You could take such good care of him while he gives you another little girl. Or two.'
The weight of his alpha snaps the high wire they've been dancing on and Chuuya growls, yanks Dazai's head back with a start. That moan that comes out of him is downright filthy, a thick line of spit connecting Dazai's bottom lip and Chuuya's glistening dick. The omega's eyes are foggy, his body swaying as he pants openly, accepting massive gulps of air. Although, he looks perturbed that his mouth is suddenly empty.
Chuuya's canines are starting to itch with territorial need.
"Alpha," Dazai whines hoarsely, baring his neck like the submissive little thing he's meant to become. "Please?"
There are no specifics for what he's asking, no handbook that explains each of his desires perfectly. But somehow Chuuya knows what he wants without spoken confirmation. Dick still hard—now throbbing—he sinks to his knees, pulls Dazai's head to the side and licks his lips. Oh, the omega allows himself to be moved like a marionette doll, contorted however Chuuya wants him. Power runs through his veins, leaving him high off of what he holds in his palms.
As the alpha pulls Dazai closer, drowning in the thick vanilla wafting off of his partner in waves, his body takes on a mind of his own. Without asking, he grabs Dazai's shoulders and leans in, mouth ajar, centimeters away from claiming this omega as his own until the day they both die—
Chuuya wakes with a jarring start.
There's sweat on his brow and dripping down his neck, his heart pounds in his chest, his lungs beg for air. It takes a moment to re-orient himself but the alpha quickly realizes that he's at home in bed, completely alone. No lights, just the barely visible glow from the full moon outside his unlatched window. The night breeze is cool and almost feels like gusts from a freezer against his boiling skin, though Chuuya can't say he minds.
When he stands from bed, his rather large problem becomes incredibly clear. For a second, he contemplates taking a long, cold shower to dampen his nervous system, but that's much less appealing than the alternative. He's quiet when he needs to be and can make the problem go away in a handful of minutes—no pun intended.
Chuuya settles back down in bed without underwear, and hesitates. It's been a long time since he's touched himself. Especially since he's touched himself thinking of one specific person. Gods, if Dazai knew… he'd be utterly disgusted. This is a secret easily kept hidden; Chuuya never has to bring it up to Dazai. Under no circumstances would he even want to—they met up for their first real date a couple of hours ago! How embarrassing it would be if he had to admit that his hormone fueled brain concocted an elaborate wet dream where he claimed Dazai. Bit him, marked him, made sure that nobody else could have him.
After a handful of hours together at a restaurant.
Weakly, Chuuya wraps his hand around his cock and hisses, pushing any thoughts of right or wrong out of his mind. Ten minutes later, he cums all over his torso with Dazai's name groaned into his pillow.
How the hell is he supposed to look him in the face after this?
Dazai and Chuuya continue casually dating for the next two months.
About once a week—twice if schedules permit—they meet up for food, shopping, even a few trips to local museums and botanical gardens for pure relaxation. They've kissed plenty of times and had two steamy make-out sessions in the back of Chuuya's car that both end with hard-ons and mumbled apologies (neither of them are ever really sorry). One night Chuuya almost came in his pants with Dazai humping him like a frantic teenager, their lips and tongues locked in fluid motion. If he hadn't put two hands on Dazai's hips and gently pushed him away, there's no telling how far they would have gone.
Internally, Dazai makes Chuuya feel young and stupid again, like he wants to take risks to satiate his swelling lust. The one sexual activity that they do partake in is phone sex. A lot of phone sex. Dazai typically initiates after the first time—which started with Chuuya jerking off while Dazai, fresh from sleep, told him his plans for the day in a gravely, deep voice. Of course, he whimpered into the microphone and in an instant, Dazai was moaning his name with lewd wet sounds as the backing track.
On occasion, Chuuya will be the one to call him with one hand already in his boxers, dying to hear Dazai's silver tongue guide him through fantasies that he never realized he could have. Crazy, deviant endeavors that leave him tingling all over and praying to whichever God might be listening that he'll get to feel Dazai in his dreams again.
Despite the urge, the aching need to have Dazai underneath him panting and begging for a knot, each date ends at Dazai's front door. Chuuya never invites him over and never accepts Dazai's invitations to come inside for another drink. He isn't stupid: going inside that apartment would absolutely result in them sleeping together. Hell, the only thing that's held him back thus far has been the back windows on his car lacking dark enough tint for him to confidently take off his clothes. If he had updated his tint a few years ago like he wanted? There’s no doubt that they would have fucked.
It's better this way. Dazai seems like he's in it for more than sex, but what about when Chuuya tells him that he's got a three year old at home? A daughter who has attachment issues because her mother deserted her before she could even coo out "mama". How is he going to react when he learns that she's the reason he doesn't even know their address? At some point, Chuuya is going to have to make a decision. Is Dazai worthy of meeting her? Does this relationship mean so much to him that he's willing to bring someone into her life when all she's known is Chuuya?
Well, it turns out that the decision to confide in Dazai gets snatched out of his hands. All because of some stupid fan taking a photo of him in the streets and posting it on social media. For years, Sakura has been shielded from the public by design. Chuuya isn't a celebrity by any means, but he's locally well-known and often gets flagged down for photos or brief conversation about his music. Nobody approached him for this picture, it was taken from across the street while Chuuya was walking out of a boba tea shop with a drink for him and Sakura to share. In the photo he's seen holding the thick straw to her lips while she struggles to suck a boba piece into her mouth, and Chuuya looks completely enamoured by her.
He never would have known about the photo had it not been shared all around the local scene on social media. The way that he finds out about it doesn't bode well for his relationship, either.
Chuuya rolls up to Dazai's apartment one day with a small bouquet of flowers hidden behind his back and a tiny gift bag filled with these exotic chocolates that the omega had mentioned a while back. There's nothing special about this date, but the redhead feels the need to let Dazai know how much he's cared for and valued. Nothing wrong with doing that through a little present.
Yet, the problems start immediately when Dazai opens the front door before Chuuya can knock. Surprised, he jumps in the hallway.
"Oh. Hi."
Dazai looks him up and down, sees the flowers peeking around his back, then points into his apartment.
"Come in."
Immediately, Chuuya's red flags start to fly. Dazai's tone is hard, cold, like he's been stewing in his thoughts all day long. "We have that reservation—"
"Not anymore. Come inside."
A pit of dread develops in his stomach, launching every organ down toward his feet. Dazai looks upset—genuinely pissed off—but Chuuya barely spoke to him today. So, what the hell is going on?
Inside, he scans his surroundings briefly before landing back on Dazai who is now holding his phone up for Chuuya to see.
"Who is she?"
As soon as that photo registers, a mixture of emotions bubble over the edges. Anger, annoyance, fear. This is not how he wanted to share the news of his daughter with Dazai, but it's now or never.
"Look—"
"She's not a relative's baby, is she? She's yours?"
Chuuya inhales slowly. "Yes. She's mine."
Dazai scoffs, offense written all over his face. "Okay, so what else are you hiding from me? You're legally married? You have an omega tucked away somewhere that you aren’t actually separated from?"
"No, nothing like that, I just—"
"You're just with me because you want a friend-with-benefits?"
"Absolutely not."
The taller man has started pacing, phone still open to that harmless photo of him and Sakura enjoying a day out. Chuuya understands how Dazai can misconstrue his secretive nature as betrayal, but he isn't like that. He's simply far too over-protective for his own good.
"So then? Were you going to hide her from me forever?"
"I was going to tell you soon," Chuuya speaks as evenly as possible, making a conscious effort to keep his pheromones in check despite his rising frustration. "But I've been waiting for the right time."
"What are we to you, Chuuya?" Dazai asks bluntly, arms crossed over his chest as he comes to an abrupt halt directly in front of him. "A fling?"
"What? No!"
"Nothing serious, clearly!"
"Can I speak and explain myself?" Chuuya's scent does change then, wood rotting into something wholly unpleasant. If Dazai smells the difference, he doesn't show it on his face. All he does is nod once and watch expectantly. Carefully, Chuuya draws in a breath before spilling his guts out on the living room floor. "Her name is Sakura. She's three years old and my only daughter. I had a one-night stand with an omega years ago that I thought was harmless. Until she dropped Sakura on my doorstep and abandoned her.
"We've been together for about three years now, since a couple of months after she was born. I haven't dated anybody since then because she's my number one priority. I live for her and… I'm not used to having someone else that I want to live for as well."
As each sentence offers more insight, Dazai's shoulders begin to drop.
"My Sakura is all I need in this life. But now, I want you. I want you and only you. Do you understand how terrifying that is? I wasn't going to bring you around her if you were only here for no-strings-attached fucking because the last thing I need is for her to develop a bond, then be heartbroken after she gets discarded again. So, yes. I've been taking my time trying to figure out how to introduce the two of you because I can't mess this up. I don't have time to get my heart broken and I certainly won't let you break hers."
Dazai blinks back at him, a thousand thoughts rushing behind those eyes. His scent, which had been stale and burnt eases back into its usual fuzzy, spicy vanilla. The silence around them suffocates Chuuya like a hand wrapped tight around his throat. He should have known better than to think dating would be a good idea while he's supposed to be focusing on his family and career.
Resolutely, he sighs, deposits the flowers and chocolates on the table then speaks, "I'm gonna go. Sorry that it turned out this way."
"Chuuya, wait,” Dazai looks contrite, eyebrows furrowed together and brown eyes clouded with shame. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have… I just panicked when I saw the two of you together, my last partner—" he clears his throat. "That doesn't matter now. I’m such an ass.”
The redhead studies him closely, takes in his scent as it wafts through various stages of sorrow. Regret etched across his face, Dazai looks sincere. Like he was genuinely taken aback by the sudden realization, and who wouldn't be? If the man he'd been seeing for months suddenly surfaces with a toddler in his arms, Chuuya would probably have the same reaction. Being on both ends of the spectrum, both sides of the argument are valid.
"I don't want this to be over." Dazai pleads, voice scarily quiet. Chuuya doesn't either, but now that he's seen the reaction, how will his partner behave when he really does come face to face with Sakura?
Chuuya's response, hushed and unsure, leaves an aura of uncertainty in the air once he walks out the front door, nothing but his car keys gripped in shaking hands.
"I need some time to think."
"Your sound is funky. What's gotten into you today?"
Tachihara accuses, taking a long swig of water from his third plastic bottle of the session. Days have passed since Chuuya saw or spoke to Dazai, and the sudden drop has thrown his entire routine completely off-kilter. Where he used to sit on the phone well into the early morning hours, now he listens to song demos, watches pointless television series, reads books that he'll never remember once daylight breaks, anything to distract him from grabbing his cellphone.
Work is deliriously mundane and all Chuuya can do while he's there is think about Dazai. Even Sakura has noticed the sudden decline in her dad's energy, doing what she can to brighten his mood through excessive cuddles and babbled performances of her favorite songs.
This is exactly why Chuuya shouldn't have gotten involved.
"Nothing."
"He and his boyfriend broke up." Gin spoke out evenly, barely looking up from where she’s dusting her instrument. Immediately, Chuuya turns bright red.
"He wasn't my boyfriend."
She rolls her eyes. "He and his romantically interested friend are no longer talking."
Tachihara and Akutagawa hum in unison, though their distaste is evident in their features. Chuuya has never gotten so involved in someone else before, not even the omega that carried Sakura. Any connections he had were superficial, certainly not something to write home about. Maybe that's how it should stay. If he can't find someone willing to accept that Sakura comes first—always will so long as Chuuya is alive—then what's the point?
Being a single dad is hard enough. Dealing with messy emotions on the side drains everything out of him.
"Go grab a drink from the vending machine, light up a cig if you need to," Tachihara offers, gesturing toward the door. "We still have plenty of time left in the reservation today."
Chuuya inhales, rolls his shoulders back, exhales, then trudges toward the door, heavy footsteps dragging against the carpet.
Music was supposed to be his escape; the only sure thing in his life that existed without complication. He was supposed to be able to pick up the guitar, graze his fingerpads over the frets and create a passage into his heart. But today? The bridge between himself and the notes is shattered down the middle, swinging by fragile cords.
The air outside is chilling, sending a fresh wave of shudders down his body while he mulls over the choices of drink in the old, rundown machine. Finally, he decides on a hot tea and presses the button. Just as the can clings against the bottom drawer and Chuuya reaches in, footsteps approach him from behind.
"Chuuya."
Shit.
Dazai is standing awkwardly behind him, cheeks rosy pink—whether from the cold or embarrassment, he can't decipher. His hands cradle a small bundle of tulips and a gift bag with pink and white tissue paper poking over the edges. Seeing him again feels like both a breath of fresh air and a heavy burden on his chest.
"Hi."
"I… This is weird. You usually practice here on Tuesdays, so I figured it would be worth a shot to try catching you."
With a hint of hesitation, the omega offers the flowers and gift bag. Chuuya eyes them cautiously.
"I'm sorry. I had no right to attack you like I did, and I certainly shouldn't have jumped to conclusions," tentatively, Chuuya accepts the gifts after placing his tea on a nearby ledge. The buds are fresh and aromatic, and the bag on the heavier side. "I don't expect you to forgive me or give me a second chance, I know that I messed up. But… if you did, I promise I can prove myself to you."
The wind blows Dazai's scarf out of place as his bangs swoop over his eyes. He's so pretty. He's everything that Chuuya could want in a partner: a pain in the ass, annoying, stunning man that will never not keep the alpha on his toes. No matter how rocky the past week has been, he wants Dazai.
Chuuya wants.
"I want you to meet Sakura."
Dazai's eyes widen, big and round with genuine surprise. Hell, the words even shock Chuuya as soon as they come out. He has a hunch, and the only way to discern whether or not they can work is by letting his daughter choose.
"What—"
"She's a great judge of character. I know how I feel about you, but how she feels about you is even more important. If Suki isn’t comfortable with you, then we're done."
Without leaving another gap for Dazai to speak, Chuuya grabs his tea and turns on his heels, throwing over his shoulder, "I'll text you the plan later."
Distantly, he swears that he heard a faint "Thank you," before the door to the practice room closed completely, wrapping him in warmth and faint notes from other groups practicing down the hallway.
Sakura squealed as she promptly bounced off each wall—almost literally. Such a small body holds an extreme amount of energy that even Chuuya can't understand. Practically ever ending, from dawn until dusk, Sakura is going going going. Since she was a baby, her sleep cycle has been described as "unique". Roughly translated to: baby stays awake far too long and never seems to need naps to recharge. Though, on the rare occasions that she did go down for one, she preferred to do so curled against her dad's chest, face pressed into his neck where she felt safest.
Tonight, she'll meet Dazai.
By nature, the little girl is curious and kind, always the child to offer a hand if you fall down (despite others being much bigger than she is) and put a bandaid over a scraped knee. Chuuya loves that about her—hell, even admires it! To be a child so fearless in a world created out of hierarchy and unfair advantages, this little girl never ceases to amaze. When she presents one day, regardless of what she is, she's going to get along just fine.
"He's coming?" She asks while bouncing on the balls of her feet.
Chuuya chuckles and tucks a bowl of fruit into the fridge, pineapples, strawberries, and grapes all cut up into bite-sized pieces. "Yes, sweetheart. He's coming."
Nerves tickle the inside of Chuuya's chest like he's about to make a life or death decision that will alter his trajectory from this moment on.
Well… maybe that isn't too far off, except his fate is in the little hands of his daughter. Chuuya is capable of filing his feelings away in a cabinet left to the testament of time, so if this doesn't go well then he's resigned to move on. Sakura deserves someone else in her life who will adore her just as much as Chuuya does; whether or not that person can be Dazai stands to be determined.
Sakura giggles, kicking her feet in an adorable attempt to spin around, her yellow and white sundress swirling. The plan for their meeting is simple. Have lunch together, offer playtime with Sakura (because there's no way she won't want to show Dazai her doll house), then watch a movie together. Nothing super intimidating, not formal, just the three of them tucked away in Chuuya's safe space.
"Remember, Suki," he bends down to match her height best he can and holds both of her hands. "If you don't want him to stay here, just tell me. I'll send him on his way."
Sakura squeezes Chuuya's warm hands tight, giggling yet again. "Mhm!"
It's been difficult keeping Sakura neutral about this encounter. Her comfort is the most important piece; he wants her to form opinions completely on her own, best as a three year old can possibly do. Dazai is just one of daddy’s friends to her right now, someone who can come over and have playdates or bring yummy snacks when she asks. Chuuya will most definitely keep it that way for a long time even if he and Dazai do continue dating.
Gods, does he hope they do.
A delicate knock on the door signals Dazai's arrival and Chuuya takes a big deep breath before standing.
Their home is nothing extravagant. Three bedrooms, two bathrooms, an open bottom floor with the bedrooms all directly above. One of the bedrooms was converted into Chuuya's music room long before Sakura came into the picture, but the place has been so much more lively since she arrived. A few nights a week, the girl curls up on the cozy bean-bag chair that Chuuya got at a second-hand store and listens to him play acoustic chords until she falls right asleep.
The house is theirs. It's home. Even more so after she came tumbling in through the front door three years ago. Now? Chuuya couldn't imagine these colorful walls without her there to gawk at them with such child-like wonder.
In the blink of an eye, Sakura runs from the living room to the genkan and immediately starts grasping at the doorhandle. Thankfully, it's round and her sweaty little hands can't get a good enough grip to open it up.
"Sakura! We always check who's there before opening the door!"
A quick peek confirms the person on the other side so Chuuya opens it. Unexpectedly, Sakura slips through it before he even has a chance to form a greeting and smacks straight into Dazai's legs. The omega makes a confused, surprised sound: somewhere between a yelp and a shriek. He looks from Sakura's head of curls to Chuuya's red face, then back down and softens.
"Oh, hello."
"I am so—Sakura. That's incredibly rude. You don't even have your shoes on, get back inside."
That scolding tone in Chuuya's voice makes her withdraw sheepishly, staring up at Dazai like he's a skyscraper and she's a single pedestrian on the asphalt. "Sorry." She says gently, but Dazai just kneels to look her in the eye.
"It's okay," he says, a sort of tenderness drawn on his face. "My name is Dazai. What's yours?"
Despite already knowing, Dazai asks the question simply. Sakura is delighted to answer.
"Sakura Nakaha!"
One day she's going to get those tricky 'r' sounds down, but until then they are the Nakaha family. Developmentally, she's a touch delayed verbally, but her comprehension absolutely shines according to her daycare teachers.
"Isn't that a cute name," Dazai muses, a grin that goes all the way to his eyes playing at his lips. "And you're wearing such a pretty dress."
Having completely forgotten about her father's scolding, Sakura preens at the attention. "Thank you!" Without a second of hesitation, she grabs Dazai's hand and starts tugging him inside with a strength that only a toddler excited to share toys could possess. Over his shoulder, Dazai offers Chuuya a warm smile as they slip by.
This has to work out.
Sakura is a natural social butterfly, and spent the majority of lunch talking Dazai's ear off. They had a rather simple meal of fried rice with the fresh fruit, but those were mostly for Sakura. She demanded fruit with almost every meal—sometimes dessert as well. Now they're sitting on the floor in the music room while Sakura introduces her next doll and starts explaining how she likes having her hair brushed.
Not a single time since he arrived has Dazai shown any signs of annoyance toward her. He listens tentatively, asks questions, holds dolls when Sakura gets too animated with her gestures and nearly hits him in the face with them.And she absolutely eats it up. The attention that Dazai gives tickles her in a very obvious way considering that she started off sitting across from him and has slowly worked her way nearly into his lap.
The sight makes Chuuya's heart flip in his chest.
"Da! Play songs." The little girl points expectantly at Chuuya's acoustic guitar once they reach a lull in explanations of dollhouse lore.
"Oh no, Suki, I—"
"Yeah, Chuuya~" Dazai's voice toys with the sound of his name, subtly flirty. "Play songs for us."
Chuuya glares momentarily, challenged. Dazai sticks his tongue out teasingly.
"Fine."
So, now Chuuya is stringing together notes that carry a peculiar delicacy. Each sound that resonates off his fingers feels like bricks being laid to create a new foundation, this time aided by his daughter who is now sitting side by side with Dazai watching intently. Chuuya looks at Dazai with… shyness poking through? He's used to being watched by a couple hundred people, but the gaze of this one man somehow feels intrusive. Intimidating. Adoring.
"Dazai." Sakura whispers so as not to interrupt the peaceful music, a stark contrast from what usually comes from Chuuya's gruff hands.
"Mmh?"
"Smell nice."
Chuuya uses every ounce of will power he possesses not to stop and watch as she leans against Dazai's side and sniffs. Subtlety isn't a strong suit of hers. Dazai talks only to her when he asks, "Really? What do I smell like?"
"Warm," she says resolutely, like it's the most simple explanation. "Sweet."
As if surprised by her own admission, the child sits upright and starts humming along to Chuuya's music like nothing happened. If he looked closely, Dazai's eyes became misty at the sight.
Shit, Chuuya thinks to himself, fingers stuttering over the frets. I need to kiss him.
Twenty minutes later, Dazai and Sakura sit on the couch with the menu screen of a princess movie playing on repeat while Chuuya brings out drinks. Wine for himself, juice for Sakura, and a light sake for Dazai. As he sits, Sakura shifts uncomfortably.
"We have blankets?"
Chuuya reaches over to pop open the wicker basket beside the couch and produce a few fluffy fabrics. Together, the adults watch as Sakura arranges them on the ground directly in front of their feet, carefully organizing each blanket and using a pillow where her head is going to go.
With endearment in his heart, Chuuya recognizes that she's nesting. Well, she's copying what Chuuya does to nest for her as unconventional as his techniques are. She can't seem to settle, always laying on her back and then whining as she sits up to make adjustments. In particular, she can't seem to find leverage for the sides.
At some point, Dazai clears his throat. "Can I show you something that I learned?"
"Yes." She responds quickly. The omega grins, grabs the back cushions from the couch then kneels.
"Can I come in?"
Delighted, Sakura scootches over then pats the flat blankets beneath her. Dazai settles in the makeshift nest and with her dotting eyes starts to arrange pillows along the edges, fluffing them up around the top where her head will be. Chuuya watches with rapt attention, studying the way Dazai seems to know exactly where to put each piece of fabric. In just two minutes he creates what looks like a proper nest then gestures for her to lay down again.
"If you put lots of pillows up here, it makes you feel safer. Like you’re being hugged by the nest."
Sakura looks right at Dazai like he hung the moon and the stars, like he has magical capabilities that nobody else has ever dared reveal to her before.
"Wow!"
"Do you like it?"
Sakura nods enthusiastically, shimmying among the pillows as a way to burrow herself deeper. Even the base of the nest looks way more plush without more added blankets: seriously, how did Dazai do that?
The omega laughs through his nose then starts to stand up for the couch only for a tiny hand to stop him. "Stay?"
Immediately, Dazai looks up at Chuuya for directions. Is it okay for him to lay with her? Does she want him there because he makes her feel comfortable? Wordlessly, with wide eyes, Chuuya nods slowly. Dazai grins at him again, a terribly sweet gaze that makes the alpha's teeth ache. The two cozy up on the floor, though Dazai keeps a respectful distance—one that Sakura immediately closes so that she can lay against his side.
After a few seconds of getting cozy, she tilts her head back to see Chuuya still frozen on the couch.
"Da, come."
Sakura is going to be the death of him some day.
For the next hour and a half, Chuuya lays in a nest made by Dazai while the two of them sleep soundly. Their scents mix together in the fabric in a way that creates this beautiful melody of warmth and earthiness, with gusts of sweet vanilla throughout. Resting beside Dazai like this feels akin to letting a fresh breeze tickle your face: thoroughly satisfying.
Outloud, Chuuya starts to croon when Sakura curls against Dazai’s chest, mumbling in her sleep.
He’s going to marry that man some day.