"What are you doing?" Dazai wonders, watching his partner frantically rummaging through the basement of his apartment.
"As you can see, mackerel, I'm looking for something," Chuuya replies, pacing back and forth while tossing boxes aside with his ability. "If you're not going to help, then get lost."
"Slug... if you want my help, you need to first tell me what you're looking for."
"I'm searching for my damn hat. Clearly, it's not on my head, and the last time I saw it was down here."
"Why do you even need that ugly hat? It just makes you look uglier," Dazai remarks casually. Just as he finishes, a box flies toward his face. He dodges it at the last second.
"Shut up, you walking toothpick."
"Well, you look like that ginger troll at the end of a rainbow."
"You little BITCH!" Chuuya snaps, lunging at him. Dazai grabs his arm to stop him, but loses his balance and pulls Chuuya down with him as they both tumble to the ground.
Chuuya landed on top of Dazai, his legs bracketing Dazai's hips, their faces so close that Dazai could feel Chuuya's breath, warm and quick against his skin.
"I think we should get up," Dazai muttered, trying to lift his upper body, but his voice lacked any real urgency.
"No, I don't think so," Chuuya countered, pressing his palm against Dazai's chest, forcing him back down. His fingers curled slightly into the fabric of Dazai's shirt, and the distance between their faces shrank even more.
"I have a boyfriend," Dazai muttered, but Chuuya could practically hear the internal eye roll at how ridiculous that sounded.
"I don't think he'd mind," Chuuya replied, his voice low and steady as he leaned in closer. His hand slid up to cup Dazai's jaw, his thumb brushing lightly across Dazai's skin, teasing the edge of his cheekbone.
Dazai's hands moved without thought, finding Chuuya's waist, fingers settling on his small frame as if he'd done it a thousand times. His grip was gentle, almost as though he were holding something fragile. He didn't push or pull, just rested his hands there, drawing Chuuya in closer, their bodies now pressed together.
Chuuya's eyes briefly flickered down to Dazai's lips, then back to his eyes. "Why are you such a great kisser?" Dazai asked, his tone soft, almost amused.
"Why do you always have the need to talk in moments like this?" Chuuya shot back, his voice sharp with annoyance, though there was a faint trace of something else—something he wasn't willing to admit.
"Why not? You don't like it?" Dazai teased, the corner of his mouth lifting in a lazy smile as he leaned up slightly, closing the gap with a soft, lingering kiss. His lips moved against Chuuya's slowly, testing, as if gauging a reaction.
"I don't," Chuuya whispered against his lips, but his actions betrayed his words. Without waiting for a response, he grabbed Dazai's jaw firmly, deepening the kiss. His lips were demanding, urgent. The softness from earlier disappeared as he tilted Dazai's head back slightly, taking control.
Dazai responded in kind, his grip on Chuuya's waist tightening. His fingers slid into Dazai's hair, tugging lightly as he pressed harder into him, every kiss more intense than the last.
Their breathing became ragged, and the heat between them was palpable, filling the basement like a storm about to break. Chuuya's chest pressed against Dazai's as he pushed him further into the floor, his body feeling every inch of Dazai beneath him. He let out a small, frustrated growl when Dazai bit his lower lip, a soft chuckle escaping Dazai's lips at the reaction.
