Work Text:
This nonsense all started because neither Dazai nor Chuuya wanted to go grocery shopping, and there is nothing in the house to eat. Dazai doesn't want to go because he's a lazy ass and Chuuya doesn't want to go because he did last week (and it's shameful that he can't reach the top shelf where they keep the good cereal, but that's another matter entirely).
They're at a stand still, Chuuya glaring at his roommate and Dazai lounging upside down on their couch reading the newspaper. Chuuya is in full blown mom mode, as Dazai had affectionately dubbed it, ready to lay into the other.
“It's one simple thing Dazai! One chore! It wouldn't kill you to pull your weight around here-I already have to do the dishes and the laundry and the cleaning!” Chuuya yells, nose scrunched up adorably.
“Thought I wasn't allowed near the washing machine anymore?” Dazai breaks his tirade before he gets going, an infuriating smirk on his face.
“You're not, but that's not the point!” It took Chuuya forever to clean up all the soap bubbles the last time Dazai tried ‘helping,’ he recalls with a shudder.
“Calm down before you pop a blood vessel, short stack,” the taller man says calmly, moving to sit up properly on the couch and folding the newspaper up. Before Chuuya can pitch a fit about the short comment, Dazai speaks again with a grin on his face that gives Chuuya a very bad feeling. “There's a wake being held for a girl who died a week or so ago.”
It takes a minute for Chuuya to fully process what Dazai is saying. When he does, he can actually feel his blood pressure spike. “ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR GODDAMN MIND?!” He screeches, and Dazai rolls his eyes. “We are not going to crash a funeral for food! What the actual fuck is wrong with you?!” Chuuya's voice is becoming more pitchy as his emotions spike-it took him years to learn to speak proper Japanese, and his accent is still prone to coming out during times of emotional distress.
Which, when living with Dazai, is 24-fucking-7.
“Listen, we need food. They have food. This is all very simple.” Dazai's tone is condescending, like he's explaining something to a very dumb 5 year old. “You asked me to get dinner, didn't you?”
“Yes, but-”
Dazai stands up, heading to his bedroom. “Well then, throw on a suit and grab your keys.”
*
Chuuya wants to bust out laughing, but he also wants to NOT be arrested and, holy shit, he's absolutely going to hell for this. Years of living with Dazai have given him a sort of immunity to abnormal things, but this really takes the cake. They've done some questionable things before (and been banned from several Walmarts and Targets), but crashing a funeral is a new one even for them. And because it's Dazai, whose philosophy in life seems to be 'go big or go home,’ he can't just leave it at that and stick to the plan of 'grab a plate of food and go.’ Oh no, oh god no, he has to take it just one step further.
Chuuya had been ready to kill his friend from the moment his hand shot up at the pastor’s invitation for anyone who wanted to speak a few words in Joanne Barber's memory to take the pulpit. There had been a brief moment of confusion, as the other mourners looked around and tried to figure out just who this scraggly looking man and the short redhead next to him were, but then Dazai was flouncing up to the podium like he owned the damn thing and facing the crowd with the saddest, fakest face Chuuya has seen him pull in a while and oh god, this is actually happening.
He's also about 5 years old, so he can't quite contain his giggles but he does manage to disguise them as a sort of hiccupy sob sound that is far more appropriate for a funeral.
“It is a hard time for us all.” Dazai says from the podium, face somber and eyes sad. “She was such a bright and lively girl, so willing to help out anyone who asked her.” Around him, Chuuya can hear people murmur in agreement, and he covers his mouth with his hand to stifle hysterical giggles still threatening to bubble up. Despite his best efforts, another noise escapes him, this one sounding far more like a snort of laughter than the others. It's enough to draw some people's' attention to him, and Dazai takes the moment they're all distracted to give him a sharp glare.
Reigning in his emotions, Chuuya glares right back, sending a clear 'fuck you' vibe to his roommate. Dazai continues waxing poetic about this poor dead girl that they have never seen before in their goddamn lives and Chuuya is too weak to take this anymore. He dashes from the room, head lowered and shoulders shaking, praying that people think the tears in his eyes are because he's overcome with emotion and not laughing his ass off.
*
“You,” He says, when Dazai leaves the church, holding a plate piled full of finger foods and nibbling on some slices of cheese, “are going to hell.” Dazai gives him an innocent look, and Chuuya takes a swipe at his head. “Oh don't even. There's a special circle of hell reserved for those who crash funerals and lie about knowing the deceased.”
“Yeah?” Dazai doesn't sound the least bit ashamed. “I bet it's not as far in hell as those who go along with their friends who crash funerals and then laugh.”
Because Chuuya is not Dazai and still has some shred of normalcy left in him, he flushes. Dazai offers him a slice of cheese with a flourish, and the proclamation, “Dinner is served!” He snatches the proffered slice and stuffs into his mouth whole. “God, do you even chew your food?” Dazai's nose wrinkles in distaste as Chuuya swallows.
“Oh shut the fuck up.” Chuuya digs through his pockets for his keys. “C'mon, let's get out of here before somebody realizes that we don't actually know who Joanne Barber is.”
“How could you Chuuya? Have you already forgotten about the time we spent together? How dedicated and lovely she was? How-” Chuuya elbows his roommate. Hard.
“Dazai, I actually can't handle your bullshit right now, and I'm the one who has to drive us home, so unless you want to die in a car crash because I can't stop fucking laughing, shut up.” The other makes an offended noise, but allows himself to be led to Chuuya's Mustang without any resistance.
Mercifully, they make it home without any further incident, and it's only then that Chuuya allows himself to lose his shit entirely. He erupts into howls of laughter, punctuated with occasional moans of “Oh, I'm definitely going to hell!” Dazai lets him have his moment, more interested in picking though his plate of food.
It takes a few minutes, but Chuuya eventually manages to calm himself down, but when he does, he reaches for the plate of food that Dazai is still holding. The two of them eat in comfortable silence, cleaning the paper plate entirely. Dazai crumples it up and lobs it to the backseat of Chuuya’s car, only to have to fetch it a moment later when Chuuya smacks him.
“This was fun and all, but we still do have to go grocery shopping.” Chuuya slumps back in his seat with a sigh. “We don't have anything for breakfast.”
Dazai ponders this for a moment, and briefly Chuuya allows himself to hope that the other will just volunteer to do the shopping himself. His hope is shattered when he sees the smirk on Dazai's face.
“Hey Chuuya, how do you feel about weddings?”