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Atsushi wants to say that today is a normal day. He wants to say that his outing (not a date, no, Dazai-san, it’s not a date) with Akutagawa is entirely normal. He wants to say that Dazai abruptly leaving the agency five hours early is normal. And he really, really wants to think, with all due respect to his mentor, that the glimpse of bandages he sees in the crowd outside the ice cream stand is not who he thinks it is.
Akutagawa stares at his ice cream as though he’s never had any before, and to be fair, he probably hasn’t. Atsushi figured that he only chose chocolate for the color (“something as dark as my soul” he remembers the alpha muttering as he ordered, absolutely serious, to which Atsushi responded, “…This isn’t coffee, Ryuu…”), yet it really is pretty funny to see Akutagawa look so intimidated by the cone in his hand.
It’s not cute, okay? It’s not.
While Atsushi would’ve appreciated a normal day with his friend (yes, friend, nothing more), he can’t help but feel like something’s up.
That idea is further proven when he sees a flicker of familiar fiery orange hair that should logically have no reason to be around this area of the shopping district. Only one person he knows— probably the only person in all of Yokohama— has hair so vivid, so it’s only natural that he picks it out; however, as soon as he perks up, the head of hair vanishes. Huh.
“Is that—?” Atsushi squints, trying to use his enhanced vision to pick out the flash of orange in the crowd. “Is that Nakahara-san?”
Akutagawa looks up from where he’s glaring daggers into his ice cream, following Atsushi’s gaze. “Are you sure you’re not going blind, jinko? He has a mission today.”
See, Atsushi had said that Nakahara-san should logically not be around…
“Maybe I’m seeing things,” he murmurs to himself, shaking his head. Yeah, it’s just lack of sleep on his part (not because he was dreaming of a certain black-and-white haired mafioso, nope, not all).
He entirely misses the fond look Akutagawa shoots at him. And, the two figures, one clad in black and the other wrapped in bandages, that duck into a dark alleyway.
___________
“F-fuck, damn it, Dazai, what’s up with you today?!” Chuuya gasps, pushing the brunette’s face away from where he’s nosing at his neck. The alpha growls, a deep rumble in his throat.
“You smell good, can you really blame me?” He grumbles, a borderline whine. Chuuya scoffs, trying to push down his growing embarrassment. Shameless bastard.
“We’re in public, you dumbass.”
“Since when has that ever stopped me, Chibi?”
“Well, I could’ve sworn I saw Akutagawa and Atsushi, and I’m sure that they wouldn’t want to come across this.”
“Leave them to their date, love, they’re too busy giving each other puppy eyes.”
Chuuya snorts. As he said, shameless. A massive exhibitionist, too, if he has anything to say about it. Even more of a terrible wingman.
“Sorry if I harbor some extent of wariness at being caught in the middle of a deserted alleyway with your dick inside me,” he says dryly. Dazai merely chuckles, a soft sound that makes Chuuya’s skin tingle.
“Is that an invitation, my petite mafia?” He whispers. Chuuya feels heat creep up to his cheeks, and promptly shoves the taller man away.
“Yeah, no,” Chuuya says, grimacing. Dazai, being Dazai, whines like a petulant brat, but doesn’t make any further move to pin him to the wall.
“When we get home, then?” Dazai asks, voice filled with hope. Chuuya barely has the time to answer before he feels a hand (shamelessly) cup his ass, and he swings his hand back, Dazai ducking down to avoid the blow.
“You disgusting pervert! Keep it in your pants, you stinky mackerel!”
(It’s not a refusal, though— far from it.)
_________
Chuuya stretches, pleasantly sore. He doesn’t object as Dazai brings his hand to his stomach, rubbing the smooth skin, and he smiles slightly as Dazai runs his hand over the barely-there bump.
Dazai’s been complaining about Chuuya’s attachment towards the little child, feigning worry that Chuuya will end up ditching him for the creature in his stomach (ha, as if), but even Dazai can’t deny that the detective has grown fond. Every night, they end their day like this— Chuuya, lying in between Dazai’s legs, back against the other’s chest, as the detective gently rubs his belly. It’s such a domestic thing, Chuuya thinks incredulously. His blood is mafia black, and there’s no doubt that Dazai’s is even darker, but seeing his ex-partner so careful with him and their unborn child sparks a warm feeling in his chest.
It took quite a while for them to agree on having a baby. There was the question about the future of the little one, and the fact that the idea of a child with either of their personalities would be a terror, but ultimately, they’ve decided that they’re ready. There’s a truce, permanent as things are now, between the Port Mafia and the agency, so neither of them are particularly worried about the foreseeable future.
No one aside from a select few actually know of the development yet. Chuuya’s fairly confident that the smug, cocky detective from the agency (who trapped him in that stupid book, damn it, he still holds a grudge) knew of it from the very beginning, but aside from him, Kouyou-nee, and Yosano-sensei (since Dazai insisted he didn’t trust any other doctor looking after him), they’ve told no one. It’s been sixteen weeks since they found out, and with each passing week, Chuuya’s stomach is growing a healthy bit bigger. They’ll have to do something about that soon.
With the process of carrying the baby, though, Chuuya (and by extension, Dazai) found out several things.
One: Chuuya is incredibly cranky at times. It was worse in the beginning, but it’s steadily getting better, to Dazai’s delight.
Two: Chuuya has the strangest cravings. (“Really,” Dazai had said, nose scrunched in distaste. “Who in the world eats frog legs and nutella together?”)
Three: Dazai gets incredibly protective over him. That might just be because they’re mated and all, but sometimes it gets a bit overbearing. (Chuuya won’t admit it, obviously, but he enjoys it a bit when Dazai is actually worked up enough to threaten someone for staring at his ass.)
And, the most shocking one (or so Dazai had claimed): Chuuya’s scent is even more enjoyable than it had already been.
“…It’s unfair. Why does Chuuya smell so good now?” Dazai murmurs with no real heat. Chuuya smirks.
“What, you bastard, are you saying that I didn’t smell good before?”
“Mmm…” the teasing hum doesn’t have its desired effect, Chuuya only responding with a light elbow to the alpha’s stomach. Idiot.
“Ow, what a violent chibi, even when pregnant—“ that earns him another jab, “—okay, okay! Well, if Chuuya wants to know so bad…”
Chuuya lets out a startled yelp when Dazai lifts him by his thighs, teeth grazing his earlobe. His partner’s knot jostles inside him, and he shivers as a spark of pleasure runs up his spine.
“You’ve always smelled wonderful. Not like perfume, but like the summer breeze, very calming. But, now? Chuuya smells even more delectable. Like the ocean, with a slight floral scent. Refreshing, if I say so myself.” That’s punctuated by a slow grind up that rubs against his walls just right, and an unbidden moan slips past Chuuya’s lips. He’s glad that Dazai can’t see his expression from this position, because he’d rather die than let the other see his undoubtedly red face.
“S-stop that,” he tries to hiss, but Dazai takes it as permission to continue his short thrusts, pulling at his rim in a way that leaves Chuuya trying to reach out desperately for something to grip. Dazai chuckles lowly.
“You know when you say it like that, I won’t be able to stop, Chibi,” he huffs. To Chuuya’s displeasure, though, Dazai stops. “Though, if I continue, I’m afraid my dick will fall off. I don’t wanna have to explain that to Kunikida.”
“Don’t be obnoxious, it’s only been three times—!” Chuuya starts to insist, but then it makes him sound like he’s needy. Well. “Besides, you seemed to be very enthusiastic, you overdramatic asshole.”
Dazai snorts. “Alright, sure, but I’ll have to admit that having my beloved chibi omega jump me the moment we come home is very much irresistible—“
“—Call me that again and I’ll eviscerate you—!”
“—and when you gave me the invitation to eat you out after a whole month of not being able to, how could I stop—?”
“—I-idiot, that was entirely your fault for biting my ass last time—!”
“—Besides, Chuuya looks amazing spread out on my cock.” Dazai sighs forlornly, and Chuuya has the sudden urge to gut him. How shameless can one be?
(He pretends he isn’t affected, and tries to school his expression to one of neutrality, but to his utter dismay, it won’t work.)
“I get it, you can stop,” he grumbles, crossing his arms. Dazai drops his legs, and immediately brings his arms to wrap around Chuuya’s stomach lightly. Chuuya’s heart flutters despite himself, and the omega inside him preens. Protection.
“…I’m not kidding, though. Chuuya smells great,” Dazai murmurs one more time, and Chuuya can’t even bring himself to try and shoot back an insult at the other. Instead, he sighs, and melts into the embrace.
“Dumbass, I know, you keep telling me that. For the record, though, you smell nice, too.”
Like the forest, grounding and full of life, goes unsaid. It’s ironic, but Chuuya has to say that it describes Dazai’s scent perfectly.
Chuuya does admit that he has some concerns about the pregnancy, and the futures of the three of them. It hasn’t always been easy, and things are rocky at times… but if things are to be like this, then Chuuya doesn’t think he’ll mind.