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It's a fine evening when Chuuya comes home to Dazai bumbling about the apartment, holding various bottles of various sizes and dumping them onto the countertop at the kitchen. The evening sun is setting outside, showering the bottles on the counter in orange light. He observes as Dazai retreats to the back to grab more, and contemplates walking the fuck back out before Dazai notices him in the doorway.
“Oh, Chuuya, you're home! Good timing! Come over here, I need your help.” Too late, he's caught. Chuuya wonders if he should escape anyway. Dazai takes a look at his expression and has the gall to laugh. “Don't make that face, Chuu-yan, this really is quite urgent!”
As Chuuya cautiously takes his shoes off and closes the door behind him, he glares at the array of bottles Dazai had drug out of his storeroom as if they might bite him. Some of them are clear and show their contents, like herbs and fruits floating in liquid, some are completely opaque and heavy-looking like the dread Chuuya's stomach. He walks over and settles at a stool next to the countertop despite himself. All the bottles are varying degrees of dusty, with clear handprints around the bottlenecks and bodies where Dazai had held them. Said wizard lets down another set of bottles and huffs. He steps back, counting the ones on the countertop and, satisfied with their number, begins to take out glass shots by the dozen as well.
“What the hell are you doing,” Chuuya croaks, but it sounds weak even to Dazai's ears. He smiles.
“I need you to drink all these and tell me how you feel after,” The wizard says, methodically pouring half a shot from a suspicious-looking wine bottle infused with chrysanthemum petals. Chuuya knows it's not alcohol he's being told to ingest though. Dazai keeps talking as he pours another odd cup, this time from a dark brown whiskey bottle, movements crisp and methodical like his words. “One by one now, you can start.”
Potions never work on the person who made them, so it's not like Dazai can test them himself, but that doesn't mean Chuuya's happy with the arrangement either. “I'm not your fucking potion fodder, Dazai.” He says this, but downs the thing anyway. Licking his lips, he can feel an artificial energy slowly force its way into his veins, as well as taste the sweet tang of Dazai's magic. Chuuya fakes a gag at the taste. “This one's energy. Aren't pup or kitty around to test potions for you? Better yet, when will you label them, you unorganized excuse of-”
“Shh shhh, less nagging, more drinking,” Dazai puts another cup in his right hand and Chuuya reaches over to slap him with his left. The taller man just dodges, laughing. He sets the potion Chuuya tested aside. “Akutagawa and Atsushi aren't around, no. They haven't come back since morning, and if they don't soon, then that'll be another thing I need your help with too.”
“An ass-kicking is what you really need my help with here,” Chuuya barks, loudly, downing the next shot. His head feels instantly clear. Its an alertness potion. “Watered-down Redbull. So what overpriced drink are you gonna sell to another desperate nerd this time?”
He says it more like an accusation than a question, but Dazai graces him an answer anyway. “I can't tell you that, not for what I need. But I can tell you who asked for it! Remember the math teacher next door?”
“Kunikida?” Chuuya's eyebrows raise, drinking another half shot of potion. “Thought he hates your potions. Didn't he say they taste bad?” He's about to add he agrees with Kunikida, just for the heck of it, when a bolt of sharp iciness races up his spine. It stabs sharply into his joints and makes his teeth chatter, certainly the doing of magic, but if anything can be said about Chuuya it is that he's a strong man, so he resists throwing the drink back up. “God! Fuck! Cold! Cold potion, shit, what the fuck Dazai!”
Dazai quickly hands him a different cup and Chuuya swallows its contents without a second thought. Warmth spreads through his system to counter the coldness, and his shoulders relax at the comfort despite his coughing. "You fucking- that's not meant to be ingested, asshat, how do you fuck up that BADLY-"
"My bad! But you're okay now, right?"
Chuuya settles back in his seat. “Hmph. At least you know which one's the heat potion.”
“I didn't. I guessed.” Dazai grins back at him, so Chuuya doesn't feel sorry when he flings the glass cup at his head. He snatches it out of the air and pours another suspicious fluid into it. The efficiency makes Chuuya feel a little predictable, and a whole lot mad that he's stuck doing this at all. He swallows the next cup of potion, and as it settles, words form, gather, and scratch away at his throat. He massages it gingerly, and Dazai shoots him an odd look.
“Talking. This one's the talkative one.” Chuuya points at the offending bottle and coughs. He thumps his gloved fist against his sternum, but it just makes him put the intense itch in his throat into words. “Fuck, it's really potent. Seriously who died and made you so good with potions, asshole? It's not fair. You're not fair. What does Kunikida need with your potions anyway? He's right, they taste terrible. I thought he'd stand to-mrrff-”
The taller man's hand covers his mouth and another on his throat for a full minute as Dazai's skin-to-skin touch slowly nullifies the magic in Chuuya's system. His touch is warm. Chuuya really wishes he were throwing back shots of alcohol instead of potions. “As I was saying, Kunikida-kun is finally asking DD-san to be his girlfriend! You know, the English teacher he works with!”
Chuuya replies, but it's muffled against Dazai's hand. When he removes it, Chuuya glares up at him. “Don't gag me outside the bedroom, Dazai Osamu.”
“Don't call me Osamu outside the bedroom, Chuu-yan,” He singsongs. Chuuya has half a mind to strangle him but another cup of magic is put into his hands and, say what he will about it, it's still expensive stuff he's not willing to upset just because he wants to put Dazai in a headlock. He lets out a gravelly yell instead, and drinks the next. Dazai continues to gossip while Chuuya tells him what each does, and it goes on like that for a while. Just as Chuuya is about to slug the tenth half-shot, the back of his eyes and stomach crawl with an unsettling feeling that he knows familiarly isn't related to the potion. It's the same as when he used to be Dazai's potion dummy back in high school. In fact, this whole scene is playing up to be extremely similar to that, evening moon and fleeting gossip included.
He's fairly sure he'll have either cardiac arrest or pass out if he has to drink another though.
Chuuya glares up at Dazai, words sluggish from the magic in his system. “If this is the one that kills me, it'll be on your conscience.”
Dazai snorts. “Death jokes are very unbecoming of you, Chuuya. Besides, it won't.”
“Right. Stupid of me to think you have a conscience anyway. My mistake.”
“You wound me so, darling.” Dazai laughs again, with a light sincere tilt to his head, and it makes Chuuya's heart feel light. He quickly throws it back before his heart actually does cease to function.
A small pocket of quietness happens as the two of them wait for any effect. But nothing happens, and Dazai blinks. “No effect? Darn. I thought this would be it, Kunikida will be here soon too-”
As Dazai rattles on while sorting through the countertop for missed potions, Chuuya stops to stare at him. He stares at the way Dazai's hands move as he talks, stares at the way his lips move around the syllables like something sacred. He thinks of those hands holding him to sleep at night, and how gentle his voice is when he greets him every morning. These thoughts come unbidden and suddenly, Chuuya's heart is overflowing with fondness for this man, this ridiculous idiot he's known longer than he can even remember, this terrible asshole who's in nearly every single one of his childhood memories, this one Dazai Osamu who he deeply, truly,--
“What the fuck,” he whispers, appalled when he notices he's been speaking out loud. “I love you. I've loved you all my life. What the hell.”
This stops Dazai dead in his tracks. Quiet falls over them again, but this time it's tense with its intensity. Dazai opens his mouth to speak, but Chuuya's quicker than he is. He leans over the countertop, hands brushing against Dazai's jaw as he pulls him in for a kiss.
His lips are warm, and he feels heat on his cheeks but he isn't sure if it's his, or Dazai's, or both. The kiss is chaste, and Chuuya pulls away as quickly as he started it, but if anything, the fondness in his chest overflows and unfurls like a monstrous flower. It screams at him to kiss Dazai again, and again, and again until Dazai knows the true extent of Chuuya's affection for him-
This, predictably, freaks Chuuya out like no one's goddamn business, because what the actual fuck. He doesn't care how weak his threats were before, he's fairly sure he's definitely going to kill Dazai for this time, just, as soon as he wills away the heat in his cheeks and gets over his embarrassment, really, what the fuck-
Two things happen as Chuuya tries to collect the remains of his dignity. Dazai's face brightens like the rising sun, smile turning soft and sincere in ways that convince Chuuya he might be actually fucking dying (and of course, of course it's Dazai's fault, it always is, he's a fucking curse-) and someone knocks on the door. Dazai slides away from the counter and quite literally skips to the door. Kunikida's on the other side, squinting suspiciously at the bottle in Dazai's hands.
“I was about to ask, but looking at the state of you and your partner I'm having second thoughts about asking you for help-”
“Nonsense!” Dazai grins, looking absolutely lovestruck as he glances at Chuuya slumped on the counter. “You want to make things official with DD, right? There's no shame in asking for some liquid bravery!”
Kunikida's snapped away from staring at Chuuya's form at the mention of his date. “Still, Nakahara-kun looks like he needs medical attention-”
“Don't worry your little head over it, Kunikida-kun! You handle you, I'll handle mine.” In the face of it all, Dazai has the gall to wink at the bespectacled man. He pours a small amount of said 'liquid bravery' into a smaller vial, about the size of his finger, and confidently hands it over to a red-faced Kunikida. He briskly bids him good day and shuts the door in Kunikida's face before he can start ranting or nagging, because Dazai meant it when he said he'll handle his own messes, thank you very much.
“Liquid bravery? Did you seriously make me try all your shit for bravery?” Chuuya grumbles after a while. Dazai chuckles and bounds over. He stands next to Chuuya and splays his fingers over either side of his face, pulling him in for another kiss that Chuuya sighs quietly into. The moon hangs high in the sky now, setting both their faces in a dramatic light, and they take the time to observe each other's features before Dazai speaks again.
“Liquid bravery isn't quite the right term though,” He says, and Chuuya leans into his hands, content to let Dazai's touch extract and nullify the potions in his system. “It's more like... honesty. Romantic honesty.”
Chuuya huffs as he thinks. “Makes sense. Spells for the heart don't work if you know what it does.” Now that Dazai's stopped making him drink a shot of magic every few seconds he can feel just how heavily the wizards spells weigh in his bloodstream. It'll take more than a few touches of Dazai's hand to get rid of, especially with those darned bandages on. Chuuya yawns out loud, frowning up at his lover. “Well? If you're done here, I'd like to sleep now.”
Dazai traitorously drags his fingers up and down Chuuya's cheek. “Sleeping on me right after such a heartfelt confession? I'm hurt, my precious Chuuya.”
“'Hurt' is the state of my stomach from drinking half of your potion collection,” he growls right back. Dazai laughs.
“A quarter. You had a good point about labeling them, actually.”
“Good. Then you can do that while I nap.”
“No fair~”
“Dazai. I would punch you, but I have literally no energy to argue right now.” And that's half true too. All he wants to do is sleep in Dazai's arms while whispering sweet, lovely nothings to him, no doubt still because of the spell, but he happily doesn't mention it. Dazai smiles like he might know though, and Chuuya wishes he had it in him to be pissed off. "This is entirely your fault, fuckass, at least be a little more sorry."
“Fine, fine. Don't say I never did a thing for you.” The sound of clothes ruffling ring loud in Chuuya's ears as Dazai picks him off the stool, bridal style like he weighs nothing at all. He's being carried to the bedroom, he realizes, and relaxes in Dazai's arms. The sound of his heartbeat is soothing. Chuuya doesn't say it out loud though, and suffers alone in his terrible, corny-thoughts hell. The closeness calms his racing mind somewhat, but it still needles him with annoying thoughts.
Dazai sets him down on the bed and sits on the other end. “Strip.”
Chuuya blinks at him as Dazai begins to unbutton his vest as well. He stares for a few awfully long seconds. “Dazai. I can't-”
The wizard laughs. “Not for that, Chuu-yan. And they call me the dirty one!”
He takes off his dress shirt and plucks the bandages loose from his wrist as well, and Chuuya realizes what he's trying at.
“What about Akutagawa and Nakajima?”
Dazai waves his hands. “They can handle themselves.”
“Your potion labels?” Chuuya shimmies out of his clothes until he's top bare. Dazai chuckles, and its not until he plucks Chuuya's hat off his head that he realizes he'd forgotten to remove that. His cheeks redden.
“Those can wait too.”
“I can nap alone, you know.”
At this, the wizard smiles, lips curved with something private and sacred. “After a confession like that, I don't think I could leave you alone even if the world depended on it.”
The words send a pleasant, possessive shiver through Chuuya's body. He thinks, then shrugs and flops onto the bed, waiting. “Stop calling it a confession, geez, its embarrassing.”
Dazai's quiet as he settles in next to Chuuya, arms wrapping around the smaller man easily. There's a detailed nullification spell tattooed to his arms, Dazai's life's work etched into his skin, from his wrists to his torso. Chuuya traces the black curling marks with his fingers. In turn, he tucks Chuuya's long hair behind his nape, and nuzzles into his bare neck like the huge, useless cat he is. “I'm just calling it what it is, precious. A touching one, too. There's nothing to be embarrassed about.”
The warmth of his embrace has Chuuya holding onto consciousness by the thread, so he smartly decides to not retort. He's nearly asleep by the time he hears Dazai whisper something quiet and quick, a reply and a confession of his own, only for Chuuya to hear and smile at as he dozes off for the evening. Dazai's right. The world can wait.