𝗦𝗢𝗨𝗞𝗢𝗞𝗨 𝗦𝗛𝗢𝗧𝗦

The Meaning of "Warmth and Comfort" is You

It's cold, freezing cold. It's winter in Yokohama, but the temperature is amplified in a certain brunette's shipping container. Dazai's bundled up in a blanket, a blank look on his face. His limbs, joints, muscles— Everything is numb and since his bed is directly next to the metal, the cold is going through his thin blanket and into his skin.

He hears a loud banging on said metal.

"Oi! Open up, asshole!"

That voice is all too familiar to not know who it belongs to. He doesn't move though, he's very much sure that Chuuya will kick the door in soon enough. A loud sound rings around the container as a large dent is made in his house.

"Welcome to by humble abode, Chuuya-kun~" He says dryly.

The other snorts, dragging him from his nest with the blanket still on him. " 'Humble', my ass." "Oh wherever is this vile brute taking me?! I'm terrified for my life~" He drawls, making no attempt to fight off Chuuya's not-even-secure-at-all hold. "Into my apartment, dumbass." Chuuya says it like the answer is obvious, like it doesn't force a blossom of warmth in his chest.

"Oh? Does Chuuya perhaps care about my well-being?" He blurts out, smirking at the other. Chuuya does not look at him, only completely ignoring his words.

"I didn't bring my bike 'cause it's too damn cold to use a motorcycle in this type of weather. Just called us a driver from the mafia." He opens the door for Dazai, giving the driver a look before the heater's turned on.

"You're probably an asshole to work with when you're sick, so I'm just making sure that I don't have to deal with more of your bullshit than needed.

He's still wearing his formal clothes, since they had gone on a mission only three hours earlier, finding no need to change.

"And you need warm clothes, which I have in my closet because your ass is always breaking into my apartment. Come to think of it, you never break in when you need to. Don't think I've forgotten about the storm three months ago, mackerel." Dazai just sighs, "Oh Chuuya. You're just talking to yourself at this point, no one's listening."

"You've always called yourself a nobody, so you're right. Nobody is listening."

"Rude. Using my old words detailing my suffering as an insult against me. Truly heartless you are, Chuuya."

"Shut up, idiot Dazai. Why don't ya?"

"Last time I listened to Chuuya after he told me to shut up and stayed quiet for two minutes, I was punched."

"That's 'cause you were staring at me for that whole two minutes, you idiot! Who wouldn't think you were scheming suspicious ass shit?!" The driver visibly grimaces at the sudden rise of noise, causing Chuuya to feel the slightest bit embarrassed.

The bickering doesn't die down though, it stays in a normal Dazai-to-Chuuya arguing volume, the volume a person who stands— in this case, sits— around them for five minutes gets used to to not roll their eyes at anymore.

"Ahem... We're at the destination, sirs."

"...Oh. Yeah. Thanks." He sounds like he's completely forgotten about the fact they were going to his apartment,which makes Dazai snicker before he can stop it.

When he comes back to reality, he's in Chuuya's bedroom, sitting on the edge.

Chuuya sets a pile of clothes next to him, flicking his forehead. "Wah! What was that forrr?" He rubs the stinging part of his forehead and pouts. "You were spacing out again, dumbass. Now go take a shower, you stink."

"Chuuya is being very nice right now, allowing me to stay in his spacey apartment and letting me use hot water... What ulterior motives do you have?" Chuuya frowns, looking away sheepishly, "It's... I can be nice when I want to! You just don't deserve it, most of the time." He's making excuses, it's obvious.