Work Text:
It was nearing 2 a.m., and the Sky Casino was finally quiet. The halls were draped in low golden light, the only sounds being the distant hum of machinery and the soft hiss of air vents. Security rotations were running smoothly. Sigma had no reason to be out of his office.
And yet, something in the air felt off.
His boots clicked softly along the marble as he walked through the corridor near the private vaults—an area with layered security and no public access. Yet his instincts prickled, screaming that someone was here.
He turned the corner and stopped dead.
There, leaning against the wall beneath the blind spot between two security cameras, stood Dazai Osamu, dressed in black with his coat trailing behind him like shadowed wings, arms crossed like he was lounging in his own home.
“Sigma,” he drawled, smiling as if they were old friends meeting for coffee. “You’re late.”
Sigma’s hand flew to the gun holstered under his coat. “You’re supposed to be dead or in hiding.”
“Ah, but I’ve never been good at playing dead,” Dazai said, taking a step forward. “And hiding’s so boring when I could be here instead.”
“Security is tighter than ever,” Sigma hissed, drawing the weapon. “How the hell did you even get in?”
Dazai smirked, unfazed. “Wouldn’t you like to know? Maybe if you asked me nicely, I’d whisper it to you.”
“Try whispering it to a bullet.”
“Ooh,” Dazai grinned wider, “you always did talk dirty when you were mad.”
Sigma’s face burned. “You’re insane.”
“Only for you.”
Sigma didn’t shoot—but it was close. “Why are you here, Dazai?”
Dazai tilted his head, brown eyes sharp with mischief. “I missed you.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“I missed that too,” Dazai said, stepping even closer. “Your cold stare. Your perfect posture. The way your voice trembles when I lean in like this—”
He was suddenly in Sigma’s space, close enough for their chests to brush, close enough to smell smoke and old ink on his coat. Sigma backed up instinctively, but his spine hit the wall behind him.
Dazai’s hand braced just above his head, trapping him in place.
“Get away from me,” Sigma said, voice barely above a whisper.
“Say that again,” Dazai murmured, his gaze dropping to Sigma’s mouth, “but this time try not to sound so conflicted.”
“I—” Sigma’s voice caught in his throat.
He hated this. The proximity. The warmth of Dazai’s breath on his cheek. The way he didn’t flinch under his gaze, didn’t cower like others did. He treated him like a human being—a person, not a pawn or a weapon. And that infuriated Sigma more than anything else.
“You broke into the Sky Casino again just to flirt?” he finally bit out.
“No,” Dazai said, voice low. “To see you.”
Sigma’s heart skipped. “You’re lying.”
“Am I?” Dazai reached up and brushed a piece of silver-lavender hair behind his ear, his fingertips ghosting over Sigma’s skin.
Sigma shivered. “Stop that.”
“But you’re so tense,” Dazai said, lips curling. “I’m just helping you relax. After all, running a casino must be stressful—especially one as flashy as this. All that power and nowhere to direct it.”
Sigma narrowed his eyes. “I’m not falling for your manipulation again.”
“I don’t need to manipulate you,” Dazai said, and his voice—damn him—softened. “You’re already thinking about me. I can see it in your eyes.”
“You think too highly of yourself.”
“And yet I’m always right.”
“Do you want me to shoot you?”
Dazai leaned in until their noses nearly touched. “Do you want to?”
Silence.
The threat melted somewhere between them, smothered by heat and tension. Sigma’s hand trembled around the grip of his gun.
“You’ve ruined everything I built,” he whispered. “I should hate you.”
“Then hate me,” Dazai whispered back, fingers now gently wrapping around Sigma’s wrist. “But at least admit you wanted to see me, too.”
Sigma’s lips parted, but the words refused to come.
Dazai slowly guided the gun down and stepped even closer, pressing his body flush against Sigma’s, eyes half-lidded.
“You’re still shaking,” he murmured. “Is it fear? Or something else?”
Sigma turned his head away, breath caught in his throat. “You’re—”
“I’m what?” Dazai asked, leaning in to whisper against the shell of his ear. “Dangerous? Shameless? Devastatingly handsome?”
“Unbearable,” Sigma choked.
“Still not a denial,” Dazai said, grinning like he’d won.
“Why are you really here?” Sigma asked again, quieter this time.
Dazai finally pulled back a little, but didn’t step away. “Honestly?”
Sigma nodded, barely.
“I wanted to see if you were still standing,” Dazai said. “After everything. After what I put you through. I didn’t think you’d last this long.”
“I’m stronger than you think.”
“I know,” Dazai said, gaze flicking over him. “That’s what makes you so interesting.”
“…You could’ve just sent a message.”
“But where’s the fun in that?” Dazai chuckled. “Besides, I like watching your face when you’re furious. That tiny crease between your brows, the way your mouth—”
Sigma shoved him. “Don’t finish that sentence.”
Dazai stumbled back a step, laughing. “I missed this dynamic.”
“There shouldn’t be a dynamic.”
“Too late for that.”
Sigma breathed heavily, trying to regain his balance—both physical and emotional. Dazai just stood there, smiling like nothing in the world mattered more than this moment.
“You’re going to disappear again, aren’t you?” Sigma asked, staring down at his hands.
“I always do.”
“…Then why come back at all?”
Dazai didn’t answer at first. When he did, his voice was quieter than Sigma had ever heard it.
“Because you’re the only one who didn’t try to break me,” he said. “You were supposed to be a pawn. A vessel. But you looked at me like you saw me. And now I can’t forget that.”
Sigma blinked, stunned.
Dazai stepped closer once more. This time, there was no smirk—only something fragile underneath the usual bravado.
“You’re unforgettable, Sigma,” he said. “That’s inconvenient.”
“…You bastard.”
“I get that a lot.”
Sigma looked up at him, jaw clenched. “You’re playing with fire.”
“Good thing I like the heat.”
And then—slowly, like he was testing the air—Dazai leaned in again. Not with force, not with expectation. Just close enough that Sigma could feel the question on his lips, like a secret waiting to be asked.
Sigma didn’t move.
Their foreheads touched, briefly. Breath mingled. A heartbeat passed.
But before anything more could happen, the alarm in Sigma’s office began to buzz—faint, but sharp. Someone had noticed a breach.
Dazai stepped back with a soft sigh.
“That’s my cue.”
“Go,” Sigma said hoarsely.
Dazai turned—but not before brushing his fingers across Sigma’s hand one last time.
“You can tell them I threatened you. It’ll make you look strong.”
“You are a threat,” Sigma muttered.
Dazai smirked again. “But not to you.”
He vanished down the corridor like a ghost, leaving only the scent of his cologne and the echo of his words behind.
⸻
Later, as Sigma sat in his office staring blankly at the security footage he already knew wouldn’t show a thing, he muttered under his breath:
“…I did miss you.”
And the confession, quiet and lonely, echoed off marble walls that couldn’t hold warmth.