Work Text:
This week has been full of unpleasant, truly unfortunate events. The call from the immigration office, for one, takes the cake—no. Actually, his assistant, Nakahara Chuuya, takes the cake after that one, unwanted call started it all.
Thing is, he knows he’s been mean to Chuuya and most of those instances are so he could just delight in the incredible restraint the redhead is showing every time he attacks the poor man with his daily bullshit. Dazai knows that Chuuya’s been cursing him to death for the past three years since their first day working together and it really is a shame that those curses aren’t doing their job. Because who demands he should be able to drink his coffee within five minutes after it’s brewed and the nearest Starbucks to their office is a ten-minute walk? The answer, of course, is Dazai, and Chuuya learns this on his first day, which was hell.
But Dazai also gets surprised that day because Chuuya manages to get him coffee with 30 seconds more to spare, a curse under his breath and a bone-chilling, plastic smile on his face. There was contempt in his eyes that the assistant did not even try to conceal. Dazai’s cup landed on his table with a soft thud but his eyes did not miss the way those nimble fingers were shaking from holding back a sure punch to Dazai’s face.
“Enjoy your coffee, sir.” The words were said with an eerie calmness that Dazai never really heard from anyone else except himself, and when Chuuya slammed his office door as loud as he could, the complete opposite of the gentleness he exhibited in putting Dazai’s coffee on his table, the Chief Editor knew then that hiring Chuuya as his assistant was one of the best decisions he’s made in his life. He was not going to let him go, not even going to let him resign once he’s fed up with Dazai.
He’s starting to regret that now. Maybe he should’ve allowed Chuuya to at least transfer to another department when the shortie requested for it after Dazai replaced all his whiteboard markers with permanent pens.
“Do I really have to?”
“Oh, I don’t know, Dazai.” Dazai, he says, not the usual ‘sir.’ Chuuya shrugs as he examines his fingernails with a bored expression on his face but Dazai knows that the other is enjoying every millisecond of it. “Do you really have to?”
He’s surprised that Chuuya can be this cruel to him, though to be honest, it really shouldn’t be a surprise at all. Remembering all the shit he made Chuuya endure, testing his limits and pushing all his buttons to finally make him snap, which, surprise surprise, never happened in the office yet (because apparently, Chuuya’s blowing off steam in Karaoke places and rowdy bars almost every night so he can go back and face Dazai’s new round of nonsense the next day as if he’s ready for another refill).
Dazai casts him a withering look and Chuuya smirks that damning smirk Dazai had seen before for the first time after discovering that Chuuya’s managed to seduce the Starbucks employees to convince them into delivering Dazai’s coffee every morning, courtesy of the barista’s own, private vehicle. Of course, that meant no longer getting to witness the chibi’s delectable look as he heaves a breath, panting with his skin flushed pink and his hair slightly a mess, not that Dazai will ever admit that thought out loud.
Now, he’s seen that fucking smirk again for the eleventh time in three years just this morning when Dazai asked his hand for marriage.
Don’t get him wrong. He doesn’t like the chibi that way. It just so happened that Chuuya was there when Sakaguchi Ango called from the immigration office to tell him that his non-immigrant visa expires in thirty days and that the best course of action to take is to marry Chuuya because no one, absolutely no one else can know or else Dazai’s ass is fired. He also has the “I’ll approve your request to transfer to the editorial department” card up his sleeve, which is basically like a promotion.
So, Dazai’s ass is saved and Chuuya finally gets to proofread shit while also having the pleasure and greatest honor of marrying Dazai’s handsome face and be his spouse for like, three months. Chuuya is obviously benefitting more in this arrangement (because he would never admit that having a cute, tsundere husband for a few months is also a win in itself). All that gold Chuuya can get and all he has to do is answer some immigration questions to prove he’s a good boyfriend-slash-fiance, so why in the world is Chuuya being so damn difficult!?
“Please marry me.” Dazai says bitterly and Chuuya scoffs.
“Surely, you can do better than that.” His assistant says and with the way those blue eyes take a quick glance at the ground, Dazai already knows what Chuuya is trying to make him do.
“We’re in the middle of the street!” He protests and the redhead bats his eyelashes at him.
“And isn’t that romantic?”
“You’re not making any sense, Chuuya.”
Chuuya crosses his arms and grins, amused. “Oh how the tables have turned.”
Dazai groans loud enough to turn heads. He runs his fingers through his hair and pulls on them out of frustration, and this has been mentioned before but let it be known again that Chuuya is enjoying every fucking second of it, relishing on every moment that Dazai makes a fool out of himself in the middle of the crowded street, and he is about to make an even bigger fool of himself as he reluctantly bends on one knee with a loud “FINE!”
Chuuya raises a brow, prodding Dazai to continue. People are beginning to notice them more and, is that a fit of giggles he hears? A quick side-glance shows him that a bunch of teenage girls already have their cameras ready and it wouldn’t take long before every other person within the vicinity starts to do the same. Now, Dazai’s not that really keen on seeing a video of himself proposing to Chuuya circling around the Internet.
He sighs, stares up at Chuuya with a frown, and says, “Please, marry me.”
“Huh.”
Dazai breathes in, eyes twinkling with unspoken promises of making their married life ten times more hellish after this event, but Chuuya does not seem to care nor does he feel threatened. If anything, he only challenges Dazai with a raise of one, perfect brow.
People are starting to stop in their tracks to watch. People are starting to fish for their phones from their pockets. If they are going to make it to national news for their public display of affection, then—
Dazai grabs a hold of Chuuya’s hands, caresses the skin that almost catches him off guard with how soft and tender it feels against his touch, and for good measure, he kisses the back of Chuuya’s hand before he loudly proclaims,
“Would you please, with cherries on top, marry me, Chuuya?”
As expected, red quickly crawls up his assistant’s face, from his neck to the tips of his ears. Dazai’s pretty sure he’s able to at least get his revenge after Chuuya’s forced him to put himself in this shameful position. He’s dragged the redhead with him, after all, and if they are going to go viral then at least the embarrassment is shared between them—
And yet, despite the red of his complexion, Dazai catches a small, mischievous smile on Chuuya’s face before the man snatches his hand away.
“You can’t afford me.” He tells Dazai, out loud, before marching out of the scene, swaying hips and all, leaving him to bask alone in the gasps of the crowd and the flashes of phone cameras. From inside his pocket, his own phone vibrates and Chuuya’s text greets him: send me the interview details.
Dazai does not exactly know what is going to be asked in the interview but he has a few ideas. What else can anyone really ask to prove other people’s relationships? There’s the what, when, where, and how, which covers the basics and it is relatively easy to prepare a script for that, which he sends to Chuuya via e-mail. Attached are instructions to leave the other small details about their relationship to Dazai and that Chuuya should just sit down and act head over heels with him during the whole course of the interview.
He strides inside the immigration officer’s office with such unbridled confidence, Chuuya in tow. They’re holding hands, intertwined fingers just like they rehearsed a couple of hours ago (“why the fuck are your hands so fucking greasy you disgusting piece of shit!?” “ah, you see mon petite chuu, popcorn tends to have that effect on my fingers!”)
Sakaguchi starts to fire away questions that Dazai has anticipated and they both answer without missing beat.
“How long have you been together?” Dazai smiles. Easy.
“Three years and counting.”
“Where did you first meet?”
“At the office.”
“It was love at first sight!”
“When and how did you propose?”
Chuuya laughs, obviously remembering what happened yesterday, and Dazai squeezes his hand as a warning, but the laughter does not spark any suspicion in anyway because wow, Chuuya’s actually a good actor isn’t he? Dazai hides his amusement with a fond look on his face as Chuuya starts to tell lies about a proposal by the bay, as what’s written in their script, and takes the liberty to add that Dazai choked on his own tears when Chuuya finally said ‘yes.’
Then, Sakaguchi pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and asks “What’s Chuuya’s favorite color?”
While Chuuya suddenly looks worried because hey this isn’t in the script, Dazai confidently answers “Red.” Much to Chuuya’s surprise.
“And what’s Chuuya’s favorite food?”
“French cuisine. But ramen holds a special place in his heart.” Dazai could see the carefully concealed surprise in Chuuya’s face but really, his assistant shouldn’t be surprised at all because Dazai is observant as hell and Dazai knows everything. This thought he conveys with an eye roll when Sakaguchi looks down at his notes briefly, and Chuuya huffs. “It’s his comfort food.” For when he’s stressed at me, goes unsaid.
“Favorite drink?”
“Black coffee in the morning, iced Americano in the afternoon, wine late at night.”
Chuuya’s looking at him suspiciously now but he tugs on the other’s hand, reminding him to smile. Just smile.
“Hobbies?”
“Reading books, especially poetry books.”
Ango nods his head and his eyes flicker towards Chuuya, who could only smile sweetly in response, of course. When the next set of questions come flying, Ango’s no longer looking at his guide notes.
The questions start to get more personal. Who the hell asks about other people’s mannerisms? Last time Chuuya checked, they’re not prime suspects in a murder and yet they’re being questioned like they are, or well, Dazai is being questioned while Chuuya remains silently in a little shock at how the answers are thrown back at Ango without hesitation, more so the fact that they are all right. Nevermind that he knows Dazai knows everything, because knowing everything is a hobby of his. That weird ass bastard.
And as for Dazai, he’s never going to tell Chuuya he’s interrogated one Tachihara Michizou and bullied the young intern into telling him where they always disappear to after work, and that is how he’s learned about the karaoke thing, which leads him to learn about Chuuya’s favorite songs to sing when he’s a good mood, when he’s stressed, or just plain angry at Dazai and his bullshit yet again. He’s never going to tell Chuuya how he’s learned that his dream country is France, no thanks to the countless French-themed doodles at the back of his notebook that Dazai’s raided once upon a time out while Chuuya went out to get lunch.
With a whole bunch of information about his chibi assistant in his head, Dazai breezes through the line of fire smoothly, although it seems that his throat’s gone dry from talking too much, a little overeager at answering questions about the man whose temper is as short as his height. He beams when Sakaguchi nods his head and leans back against his seat, looking satisfied and somewhat convinced with his answers.
His heart skips a beat when the immigration officer’s eyes switch from him to Chuuya.
“It’s your turn,” Sakaguchi says and Chuuya straightens up from where he’s unconsciously pressed himself against Dazai’s side.
They start again with the basics.
“What’s your fiance’s favorite color?”
And Dazai really expected for Chuuya to just spit out the first thing that comes to his mind, except,
“Blue. Most of his things are blue, like his handkerchief and his pendant.”
“Favorite food?”
“Canned crab. He loves eating them too much I honestly think it’s unhealthy.”
“Favorite drink?”
“Coffee, but with lots of milk and sugar you could barely call it a coffee.” Chuuya snorts. “And whiskey. Though if you’re gonna ask me, I think he should drink more water.”
At this, Chuuya throws him a stern look that actually shocks Dazai a little bit more, given that he’s already surprised with how Chuuya’s answering the questions with facts. To be honest, he isn’t even fully aware that his favorite color is blue.
The surprise continues to grow the moment Sakagucho Ango’s line of questioning starts to drift to a more personal path, just like what he did with Dazai. Because apparently, Chuuya knows that Dazai absolutely hates dogs, no matter the size, not because they’re too obedient and loyal for their own good like he always claims, but because he is actually allergic to them. A pity, Chuuya says, because dogs are adorable. Another thing Chuuya knows is that Dazai only drinks whiskey when he’s stressed, otherwise beer and any other cocktail is fine.
Dazai also does not like drinking alone, does not like eating alone, does not like doing most things alone, and that is why Chuuya makes sure to drop everything he’s doing when Dazai pages for him, makes sure to at least spare him five minutes of his time so Dazai can eat his lunch and drink his coffee and play his mobile games with Chuuya.
There’s a whole lot more about Dazai that flows out of Chuuya’s mouth like a waterfall, with most of those facts he barely even knows himself. So he’s just been staring quietly, listening to revelations about him, soaking in the fact that Chuuya knows him well, too well. When it all comes to an end and Ango looks more convinced about them now than moments ago, Dazai thinks ‘well damn right he should be,’ because all that’s been said about his being is the gospel truth he couldn’t even deny it himself.
It’s true that he doesn’t like spicy food but loves the little hints of pepper. It’s true that he wears bolo ties because he cannot properly tie his neckties and really, Chuuya? Is that worth mentioning? It’s also true that he tends to stare off, unmoving in his chair when he’s deep in thought, a stark contrast to Chuuya’s habit of pacing all over the place until his shoes are worn out. Dazai’s made him keep a stash of chamomile tea since the first time he’s his assistant like that but anyway.
“So, I’ll see you at the wedding then?”
Ango says and snaps his leather-bound notebook shut. They all stand up and the fake couple shakes the agent’s hand, with Dazai maybe squeezing Ango’s hand tighter than normal, with enough strength to make Ango’s eye twitch.
They march out the room with Dazai’s arm around Chuuya’s shoulder, and they continue to do so until they’ve reached Dazai’s car.
When they’re inside, the spell breaks and Chuuya hits his arm.
“Have you been stalking me!?” The redhead accuses and Dazai’s really offended right now because,
“I should be the one asking you that! How did you know those things about me?” Dazai gasps dramatically and pushes himself against the car door. “Don’t tell me, Chuuya’s actually in love with me!”
“In your dreams, bastard!” Chuuya hits him again. “Just so you know, it’s part of my job to know things about you!”
“Oh yeah? It’s part of your job to know that I have dog allergies?”
“Well yes? Unless we want you collapsing in the middle of a meeting just because someone’s forgot to remove dog fur on his suit?” Ah, that makes sense but still! Chuuya leans towards him and pokes an accusing finger on his chest. “Look who’s talking? You know my karaoke playlist, enumerated them even! How the fuck did you—”
“It’s certainly not your job to like, know I don’t like eating alone!” Dazai cuts him off, not realty wanting to reveal his means of gathering that certain information. The accusation effectively throws Chuuya off track and latches on to the change in subject. “And just so you know, it’s not because I get sad when I’m alone. I’m just bored, okay? I also like annoying you every minute of my everyday!”
“Is that so?” Chuuya retreats and gives Dazai back his rightful space in the passenger’s seat (yes, Chuuya’s driving of course, duh). He starts the car’s engines and puts on his seatbelt. Dazai does the same. “Well then, you can start eating alone from now on—”
“NO!” Dazai latches on his arm before Chuuya can change gears. It catches them both by surprise and Dazai quickly pulls away, looks away and focuses on the view out his window. “Just—just drive. I’m hungry."
“Are we eating together?” It is meant to tease, Dazai knows, but he raises his voice before he could stop himself, a defense ready at the tip of his tongue.
“Of course we’re eating together! What kind of fiancé am I if I let my beloved starve?” Dazai props his feet up on his seat, sitting like an undignified frog. He adds, “We still need to go through wedding preparations too!”
“We can do that without eating together.”
“Just drive, Chuuya!”
Dazai starts to whine and Chuuya concedes with a laugh, that is to say that Chuuya has a really nice laugh. It’s not really new information for Dazai but he continues to file that fact in corners of his brain anyway because he’s observant by nature, that’s all.