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Café Uzumaki was a quaint little establishment beneath the Armed Detective Agency Office and a barista's wet dream. Atsushi, to this day, couldn’t help but shudder whenever he saw that all the cups were polished and the pastries perfectly lined up. It had been three months since he started there and the place hadn’t yet lost its charm.

Everything was charming and new. The café was frequented by loyal and interesting clientele. Even the wood that adorned the establishment smelled freshly cut.  It was definitely not because of any artificial air freshener, but maybe as a result of Atsushi's happiness. Working in such an amazing place was probably giving him sensory hallucinations.

He cried in ecstasy whenever he remembered his wonderful, non-violent new job that paid the bills. His 15-year-old self would be so proud of him. It was heaven. Atsushi could hear the sound of harps as the angels sang songs about the wonders of the coffee machine at the Café Uzumaki, instead of the damn pod machine at his last job.

Who knew Nakajima Atsushi would get the wonderful gift of being hired there after being fired for excessive violence. Which was totally an act of self-defense!

‘Dazai-san, it’s a real lifesaver,’ thought Astushi, wiping away an imaginary tear that threatened to run down his face.

"Atsushi-kun!" The doorbell rang, and the bandaged man burst through the door, dragging out the barista's name in a sickeningly sweet way. Atsushi glued on his typical business smile, one he’d developed over many years working in service, while watching Dazai sit down on the stool in front of him.

"A glass of bleach, please!"

“We don’t serve death, Dazai-san,” Atsushi replied calmly, his tone as sweet as his smile. "May I suggest a bottle of vodka?"

Dazai, without shame, stretched his arms on the counter, making faces at the barista’s suggestion. "Vodka? Who do you think I am, Atsushi-kun?”

The albino’s smile widened. “Someone who likes to test my patience, Dazai-san.” He took the bottle from the shelf behind him along with a glass of water, filling it to the top. “Here’s your poison.”

Dazai looked between the glass and the barista. “Why are you so mean to me?”

“Why didn’t Dazai-san pay the bill yesterday?”

So yes, Dazai was Atsushi’s salvation. He kept him from going back to the streets and starving to death in the process. However, he was also the pebble in his shoe that wouldn’t come out.

“Atsushi-kun!” Dazai whined.

“Dazai-san,” Atsushi replied, equally drawn out.

Meanwhile, Kunikida and Tanizaki watched the conversation with fascination, ignored with absolute mastery by the two. Atsushi had seen them, he was a professional and aware of every person who came in and out during his shift. He also knew that if he didn’t deal with Dazai first, he wouldn’t be able to prepare Kunikida’s tea or any sugar-heavy drink Naomi demanded.

As they say, it was for the greater good.

“Kunikida-san. Tanizaki-san.” Atsushi greeted them, ignoring the mummy attempting to merge with the counter while crying crocodile tears. “How can I help you with today?”

Kunikida opened his mouth first, and from the look on his face, Atsushi nearly broke his professionalism and sighed.

“Are you sure you don’t want to work at the agency, Atsushi-san?”

“I won’t work as a detective, Kunikida-san.”

Tanizaki swallowed hard at the response, though it wasn’t a surprise. Still, Atsushi’s readiness to deny Kunikida was somewhat terrifying. Kunikida was already leaning over the counter and Tanizaki knows that he had only started.

“We have a great workplace environment!”

“No, but thanks.”

“Paid vacation!”

“Amazing, but no.”

“We also include a free health plan!”

Feeling a drop of sweat trickle down his forehead, Atsushi reminded himself that Kunikida was a passionate man, he could get carried away with recruiting attempts and forget about the concept of personal space. Sometimes the barista had to remind himself that he wasn’t longer at his old job. That relatively innocent people trespassing behind his counter weren’t the kind of target his boss had in mind when he put the shotgun under the worktop.

ADA members made it hard to remember that sometimes.

“Kunikida-san, it’s sad, but I must remind you that I don’t have the ability to make Dazai-san do his paperwork, despite what you believe.” For a moment, the light left the barista’s eyes. “Believing in miracles at this age is kind of childish.”

As usual, Kunikida lost faith in humanity after Atsushi turned him down for the hundredth time. On average, he’d stay that way for about three minutes before blaming Dazai for all the misfortune plaguing his schedule.

Tanizaki. Good and sweet Tanizaki. Took advantage of the moment to place his order. "Hello, Atsushi-kun. I’ll have an ice cream Ristretto, 10 shots, venti, with breve, 5 vanilla bombs, 7 caramel bombs, 4 Splenda, poured, not shaken, please.”

“Tanizaki-san, we aren’t Starbucks.” However, Atsushi was already moving to prepare the monstrosity of a drink.

"Sorry, Atsushi-kun!" Tanizaki clasped his hands together, bowing slightly. “Naomi is getting more and more specific with her requests. She always laughs when I warn her against it. I don’t know what else to do. Sorry.”

‘You weren’t going to do anything anyway.’ The treacherous thought crossed Atsushi’s mind. “It’s not your fault, Tanizaki-san.” Only partly.

With his back to the detectives, Atsushi’s artificial smile softened affectionately, despite their presence being bad for his blood pressure. Still, it would be bad for business if they learned he could tolerate them in a more sentimental way.

Agency members were exhausting. It was a sign when he came to the conclusion that Ranpo was the most tolerable of them all. The little guy liked to stuff his mouth with sweets and run away, leaving the head of the agency to pay the bill. Kenji was a risk for property damage, Yosano stained the benches with blood, and Kunikida was bordering on stalker territory lately. Tanizaki and Naomi were the worst, Atsushi always had to make a speech to them about public indecency.

And Dazai-san… Well, he was Dazai-san. And that was enough.

They were all very kind, though.

Their former customers were questionable compared to them.

“Kunikida-kun,” called Dazai. “I don’t understand. Why do you keep asking Atsushi-kun to join the agency?”

The blonde adjusted his glasses, preparing to lecture the waste of bandages. “Because—”

Dazai cut him off.

That couldn’t be good. 

“Atsushi-kun is already part of the agency!”

Yes, Dazai was the pebble in Atsushi’s shoe that wouldn’t come off even after removing the socks. The only solution was to cut off the foot. They exchanged glances. Atsushi almost wished he had served the damn glass of bleach.

“...What?” Kunikida looked at Atsushi with betrayal in his eyes.

The barista held up his hands. His plastic smile shrinking nervously. Kunikida’s aura was so tense, he backed away until his back hit the coffee machine. "As an honorary member!"

"I was the one who recommended him," Dazai said, blinking innocently.

Atsushi felt his brow twitch. “Dazai-san, I swear I will serve Ango-san bleach in front of you if you keep talking.”

The sound Dazai made was credible enough for Atsushi to suspect that he trained every morning to imitate being shot in front of a mirror. With what he knew about him, the idea probably had a grain of truth.

“Atsushi-san,” the blonde said, slamming his hands on the counter, “I insist that you become a permanent member!”

The albino tilted his head. "I don’t plan on leaving the agency?"

"I insist that you work with us in the office!"

“I refuse.”

Kunikida screamed.

"Does that mean Atsushi-kun has an ability?" Tanizaki asked, glancing at the barista, who simply shrugged, not even looking his way. ‘Weird,’ the redhead thought. “Wouldn’t it be more interesting to resolve cases?”

“I’m more qualified to work here.” With the most serious and serene face Tanizaki had ever seen, Atsushi said, “I’m not crazy enough to put my life at risk. I want to live. It is very good to live. Breathing is amazing.”

The sound of crickets echoed in the silence that followed, while Atsushi continued to mutter about the virtues of life and the wonders of eating chazuke.

"And that’s why I will never ask Atsushi-kun to commit double suicide with me," Dazai proclaimed, sticking his nose in the air and patting himself on the back.

Tanizaki raised his eyebrows. “I thought you wanted to commit double suicide with a beautiful woman, Dazai-san.”

Dazai sighed theatrically, picking up the barista’s hand and tracing the palm with his fingertips, looking through his lashes. “I want to do everything with Atsushi-kun.”

Snorting, the barista removed his hand and patted Dazai’s head. He hummed, letting the barista touch him, even chasing the hand when Atsushi walked away. The heat in Dazai’s cheeks was nothing to be ashamed of, nor the starry gaze he only gave Atsushi. So, he ignored his two co-workers staring at him.

Not that they stared for long; Dazai had always been clingy with Atsushi, and Atsushi had always let Dazai get away.

“Dazai-san says so, but he’s always been a very independent man,” Atsushi commented, returning to Naomi’s extensive order. "But I guess I’m glad you think so highly of me. Otherwise, I’d probably still be doing odd jobs."

The waste of bandages rolled his eyes. "Atsushi-kun is very talented! Everyone would be happy to hire him! I just accelerated the process.” Dazai frowned. “You were always in high demand at your last job. I still can’t understand how you could get fired…”

“It’s sad, but the clientele dwindled after the disappearance of my three most loyal customers.”

Tanizaki looked between them, confused about the sudden silence. Atsushi was very focused on finishing Naomi’s drink and Dazai seemed seconds away from a bad idea: really drinking the glass of vodka.

When the swaddled man took the glass firmly, Tanizaki went cold. Kunikida, however, was a professional and quickly grabbed the mummy’s hand, slamming the glass loudly onto the table. Atsushi looked over his shoulder, calm as ever, at three grown men eyeing the drink like it was about to explode.

"A-Atsushi-kun!" Tanizaki stammered, gesturing wildly before suddenly freezing, eyes widening. "Has anyone ever guessed your old job? It’s tradition at the agency!”

The albino turned with a travel cup in hand, tilting his head in that cat-like way the agency had come to associate with him. Dazai cooed at the sight, prompting Atsushi to add ice to the vodka glass, overflowing it and leaving the bandaged hand sticky. As if by second nature, Dazai wiped it on Kunikida’s vest, who immediately began strangling him.

“Not that I remember,” Atsushi replied, ignoring the crime scene in front of him.

Tanizaki mentally punched the air, proud of himself for shifting the room’s tone. Hearing the answer, Kunikida adjusted his glasses, released the idiot, and opened his agenda. "Well, it’s an agency tradition. If we shorten the reporting time, we can take a little longer here.”

“O-Oh, don’t do this on my account. I didn’t do anything interesting,” Atsushi stammered, glancing toward the counter and remembering the shotgun under it.

They were really similar jobs. 

If he ignored the times he used the shotgun.

“Nonsense.” Kunikida closed the agenda noisily. “As a member—”

“Honorary member.”

Everyone pretended not to hear the blonde’s heart break into a thousand pieces. "As an honorary member, it is our duty to integrate you into the agency’s teamwork-strengthening activities.” He pointed at the idiot. “Obviously Dazai can’t participate. He seems to have prior knowledge that the rest of us don’t.”

Dazai batted his eyes like a maiden trying to charm a peasant, propping his elbows on the table and his chin in his hands, swinging his feet. “Atsushi-kun was the best of the best in his field.” There was only one other bartender and that was the owner. “He was well liked by all.” Not necessarily a good thing, considering the clientele. “And there are rumors many tears were shed when he was fired.” Yes, by the man he punched. The owner cried too, but he risked a gang war if he didn’t fire him.

Unfortunately, without Dazai’s protection over Lupin, the area was never as safe again.

“A great professional.” The blonde seemed delighted with the idea, and gave him shivers.

The redhead stepped forward, raising a finger. “My bet is on pastry cook. Ranpo-san always speaks highly of the sweets since Atsushi-san was hired! Atsushi-san also helps in the kitchen, doesn’t he?”

Atsushi opened his mouth to confirm, but was interrupted by Dazai, who crossed his arms and yelled, “MEH! Wrong. Very wrong. Ranpo-san would be ashamed of you, Tanizaki-kun! Atsushi-kun has recommended new vendors since he arrived. Obviously!”

That is also true, Atsushi thought.

Before the youngest could defend himself, Kunikida stepped forward, puffing his chest. “Barista.”

Of course, Dazai repeated the same process, shouting even louder. “Wrong! Shame on you, Kunikida-kun! It’s in the face! In the face!”

"Oh, you—!"

Interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone, Dazai was saved by the bell and fled to hide behind Tanizaki, who finally got Naomi’s drink, as well as Kunikida’s hot tea. Tanizaki had no idea when or how Atsushi made it amid all that chaos.

It was for reasons like this that, at the Café Uzumaki, Atsushi was the favorite of the agency members: fast, competent, cute, and able to handle Dazai’s nonsense. Honestly, half the agency didn’t know how Kunikida hadn’t tied Atsushi to an office chair until he gave up and accepted his fate of signing paperwork.

“We have a case.” The blonde turned to Dazai with a disgusted look, then to the redhead, accepting his tea. “And you have to take Ranpo-san to a crime scene.” Kunikida placed a pile of coins on the counter, the exact amount to pay for his drink, even though he hadn’t ordered it. Tanizaki hurriedly paid as well, trying to mimic his superior’s efficiency while dragging a human limpet. “I’m sorry we have to drop this important bonding moment, but as members of the Armed Detective Agency, we can’t let the agency look bad.”

“You already failed either way, Kunikida-kun,” Dazai mumbled. Then, humming delightedly with shining eyes at Atsushi, he added, “Should we make Atsushi’s former job one of the agency’s mysteries?! We’d match, Atsushi-kun!” He leaned over the counter, almost pressing his face to Atsushi’s as he put away the money.

“The other members haven’t even tried yet.”

“BOO! Killjoy,” Dazai muttered, pouting.

It was cute, so cute that, for a brief moment, Atsushi cupped his cheeks and stroked them with his thumbs. “Go work, Dazai-san.”

But the man just stood there, staring at Atsushi, heat building in his neck. Before Dazai could think of something, Kunikida was already dragging him out by the collar, ignoring the fish-mouth face Tanizaki kept making while looking between the two.

The doorbell rang again as the trio left the Café Uzumaki, bringing silence back to the place.

“A bartender at a mobster establishment is a little too specific for them to guess… Is it unfair? Can I make money from it?” Atsushi wondered aloud, looking at the glass of vodka.