Molly's Fics Cause she Refuses to Read Them on Ao3

Back in Your Arms

It was two weeks ago that Chuuya left for his most recent mission. Two weeks of negotiating, then fighting as per agreement of those negotiations, then negotiating some more, and fighting some more.

When it's finally time to return home, his muscles ache with a vengeance and exhaustion penetrates deep into bones. For someone with the ability to defy gravity, the force seems to have a ruthless hold on his figure as he treds into his penthouse.

It takes him by surprise when he pushes open his door to see Dazai knocked out on his sofa, still sitting upright, facing the door. It's a very unattractive position for him, his head rolled back against one shoulder in such a way that forces a double chin and when Chuuya looks closely he can spot drool at the corner of his mouth.

It should be a repulsive sight. To any sane person, it would be, yet Chuuya's stupid, malfuctioning heart errupts into fondness at the sight as he leans against his doorframe.

"Dumbass," he mutters as he walks closer. He stares at his husband, then sighs and heads for the shower. Once he's clean and feels like he's scrubbed this very long, grueling mission from his body, he'll wake his idiot lover and drag him to the actual bed.

When he steps out of his clothes and into the shower, the hot spray feels like heaven rolling over his skin, penetrating deep into the tissue, soothing his aching body.

He almost doesn't notice Dazai's presence as he wanders into the bathroom, but he can make out Dazai moving behind the warped glass of his shower.

"You could have gone to the actual bed. I know I told you to sleep on the couch for the comment you made about my ass in front of our colleagues, but I didn't expect you to be so obedient." To his surprise, Dazai doesn't retort, which piques Chuuya's concern. He's about to call out once more when suddenly Dazai is stepping around the privacy glass of the shower and his arms loop around Chuuya's waist, his bare skin pressing flush against Chuuya's back. His face comes to nestle into the curve of Chuuya's neck.

"Osamu." Chuuya exhales an exhausted sigh -- he really just wants to shower and go to bed. Granted, he's missed Dazai, but he could fall asleep where he's standing if he wasn't actively trying not to. "I need at least a few minutes to shower before you start putting your hands all over me. " He pinches one of Dazai's arms, bandages gone. Dazai just grips him tighter and nuzzles his face into Chuuya's neck. Chuuya groans. "What is your deal right now--"

"Chuuya," Dazai says, and Chuuya's heart sinks at the tone, like a small, desperate plea. He tenses in Dazai's arms, then turns swiftly. Finally able to see Dazai's face, he can see the notably darker rings beneath his eyes and redness streaking through the whites from lack of sleep.

Chuuya rests a hand against Dazai's cheek, whose eyes flick over Chuuya like he's searching for something.

"What's wrong?" Chuuya asks.

Dazai doesn't say anything, just swallows in a way that looks painful.

Suddenly Chuuya realizes he should have been concerned when he walked through the door and saw Dazai sitting on the sofa passed out nearly two hours past midnight. He was waiting for Chuuya to return -- for what, Chuuya does not know, but Dazai's current state is clearly a bad indication.

Dazai must read the panic flashing over Chuuya's face. He raises a hand to settle over Chuuya's.

"Everything is okay." But Dazai's expression says anything but. "I'm just relieved that you're home." He settles his forehead against Chuuya's and shuts his eyes.

Chuuya doesn't believe him -- well, he does and he doesn't. Something is clearly wrong. So Chuuya kisses his chin and says, "Give me a few minutes," then proceeds to rinse the rest of the conditioner from his hair. All the while Dazai stands behind him, constantly touching him in some way; a hand on his hip, his neck, thigh.

Even once they're out of the shower and Chuuya is quickly drying himself off, he has to skillfully work around Dazai's hands as they touch him like he'll die otherwise. Chuuya migrates to the bedroom and slips on some night clothes when he notices Dazai is still fully nude, just staring at Chuuya as he dresses -- not in a lewd way as would be typical of Dazai, but rather like he's taking Chuuya in, memorizing every detail of his body like it might be his last chance.

"Osamu," Chuuya sighs as he grabs a sleep robe and puts it around the taller man's shoulders. "Clothing, idiot." The insult is laced with far too much affection."This isn't going to be that kind of night," he says, trying to be humorous despite his concerns. Dazai listens and fastens the robe around himself. Chuuya grabs his hands and guides him over to the bed where he pushes his husband to settle, slouched against the headboard so Chuuya can climb into his lap.

"Tell me what's wrong," Chuuya requests gently, his fingers combing soothingly through Dazai's hair.

Dazai says nothing for a moment, just stares at Chuuya with a gaze that seems worlds away. Chuuya can imagine that he's already forming a lackluster explanation so he says, "You can't lie to me, Mackerel. I know you. Something is wrong, and you're worrying me so just tell me and we can both get some sleep." Straight and to the point.

Dazai's hands settle on Chuuya's thighs, slide up the exposed skin and over his briefs, his waist below the loose T-shirt he has on and then pulls until Chuuya is laying across him, face tucked into Dazai's neck who squeezes tightly. Chuuya doesn't mind normally, but even if he did, Dazai clearly needs this right now.

"Osamu--"

"I dreamt that I didn't get to you in time," Dazai says suddenly.Chuuya tenses. He feels Dazai's face nuzzle against his neck. "It was very unpleasant," he says, trying to force some humor into his tone, but his voice trembles. "I found you just as Arahabaki began devouring your form and I held you in my arms only a second before you vanished into ashes.

I almost went and tried to find you on your assignment, but I was a good boy and decided not to intervene despite the constant incessant voice in the back of my head that kept insisting you were dead."

Chuuya's arms wrap around Dazai, nose nuzzling sympathetically against his temple. Figures, the one mission it's absolutely pivotal he doesn't carry his personal cell as a safety precaution against tracking. Dazai couldn't even call him.

"I'm here, aren't I? I'm fine." Chuuya says, wraps his arms tightly around Dazai's shoulders. "You know I wouldn't use corruption without you."

"Could I convince you never to use it again?"

Chuuya blinks, startled by the question. He pulls back, the motion causing Dazai's hands to fall and settle at his waist. He looks down at his husband.

"If ever there's another way, I won't," Chuuya replies in all seriousness. He runs a thumb over Dazai's cheek. "I won't try to die if you don't."

That at least earns a small huff of a laugh from Dazai. "Well, I guess that's better than nothing."

Chuuya leans down and captures Dazai's lips in a kiss, deep and so full of passion, like they're both making up for the past two weeks. It's Dazai who breaks the kiss before it can get too heated, Chuuya's position in his lap becoming rather troublesome.

"You need sleep," Dazai says, tangling his hands through Chuuya's damp, ginger hair as it falls unbound over his shoulders.

Chuuya hums, sighs and falls to Dazai's side. They roll to face each other and shift until their bodies are tangled, legs intertwined and arms strewn over each other.

"I do need sleep," Chuuya agrees. "And I think you do too. Those bags really make you look like a mummy."

Dazai sighs.

"Being mean to me already," he complains despite nuzzling into Chuuya.

In response, Chuuya presses his lips to his husband's forehead and shuts his eyes.

"You'll be fine."