Suspicious Popsicle

CREATURE FEATURE:

Vampires:

Breakfast in Bed

WEI WUXIAN: VAMPIRE HUNTER (series)

Monsterfuckers:

The Adventures of Wei Ying, Ancient and Powerful Mimic, and Some People He Promised not to Eat (series)

The Cultivator's Dream (series)

Like a Moth to Bioluminescence

Remnant

an extant form of life

TROPES & SPECIFIC AUs:

Rule 63:

chick fics (series)

Like a Moth to Bioluminescence

Lucky Charms

Omegaverse:

Knot Funny

The Old Factory, + follow-up

Worth

Kidfic:

Condolences

A Little Happiness

Sci-fi:

Human

Pride & Prejudice AU:

The Extremely Self-Indulgent and not at all Serious Pride and Prejudice AU (series)

Tattoo Artist AU:

wishes inked beneath your skin

Band AU:

B-Side

Sci-fi and Omegaverse:

snippet

Sci-fi and Rule 63 and Regency-Inspired:

snippet 1, snippet 2

MAGIC:

Urban Fantasy/Modern Cultivators:

Catching Your Reflection Passing By

Lucky Charms

Night Bus

WEI WUXIAN: VAMPIRE HUNTER (series)

wishes inked beneath your skin

Magical Canon Alteration:

Clarity

Gratitude

Lying on the Edge of a Star

Nine Lives

Fairy Tales:

A-Yuan and the Crow

The Dragon of Candyland

gentian curse

The Lightbearer and the Toad

Uncle Death

Inspired by Mythology/Folktales:

Feather and Claw

Songbird

SEXY TIMES!

Breaking Through (series)

The Cultivator's Dream (series)

Heat

Like a Moth to Bioluminescence

Remnant

Sofa

ASSORTED FICS:

Fics Dealing With LWJ's Childhood/Mother:

Clarity

A Little Happiness

Remembrance

Character Study:

Brand

Cheap Wine and Shooting Stars

Keep Your Secret

Remembrance

you've been away for so long

Humor:

Knot Funny

The Ribbon Incident

At least watching Chuuya work was never boring, even if it was often annoying. What did he have to talk about with all those people? Not the operation he was running, or his regular workload. Not strategies to try out in the field, or snappy code names for them. Not video games or music or even just the banter he kept up with Dazai, always giving as good as he got. What could they be saying, to hold his interest? He wasn't a good enough actor to fake that for a job. What banal slices of mundanity had his eyes crinkling up at the corners, his painted lower lip stretching like a gash across his face as he grinned?

Across the room, Chuuya caught him staring from the corner of his eye. He held Dazai's gaze for a long moment, then made a quick gesture, two fingers together, as if holding a cigarette. Break time, then. Dazai waited until Chuuya had slipped away before getting up to follow. The rumor mill was already in full swing about the infamous gravity user being made to smile pretty and pour tea for the same rank and file he'd been willing to kill on sight not that long ago, and Dazai had recently begun hearing his own name cropping up as an aside. People were taking note of his presence in Chuuya's orbit, and drawing various conclusions from it. Although he hadn't intended to help after his offer had been so firmly rejected, it wasn't as if he had any control over wagging tongues. Smiling to himself, he headed outside to harass Chuuya a bit more.

He was careful as he approached the alley where Chuuya would be waiting. Not sneaking, exactly, but...ah. There was Chuuya, shimmering as his finery gathered the half-light into pale gold, a lit cigarette held near his lips.

“Chuuuuuya-kun!” Dazai called, and snapped a photo as Chuuya glanced up at him. It would be interesting to see how it turned out. Even if it ended up too dark or blurred, though, at least taking it had gotten under Chuuya's skin for a moment, made him roll his eyes and curl his lip. He took a delicate pull of his cigarette as Dazai pocketed the camera and approached, blowing the smoke up into the night in a column graceful as the smoke ribbons off an incense stick.

“What are you using '-kun' for, weirdo?”

Smiling blandly, Dazai shrugged. He accepted the cigarette when Chuuya offered, and took a drag. No smudge of lipstick this time, he noted, handing it back.

“Since you're here, you owe me. No plans tonight, right?”

“First of all, I don't owe you. I'm willing to indulge you because I think it might be amusing. Second, no, I don't have any plans. I'll wait at your apartment.”

“No. Headquarters.” The cigarette changed hands between them again.

Dazai arched an eyebrow. “That's an interesting choice for what you said you had planned.”

“Does it make a difference to you?”

“No, I suppose not.” He let his hand drift upward after returning the cigarette so that his fingers brushed the chime pinned in Chuuya's hair, setting it ringing. “Doesn't this get annoying?”

“Yup. And yet here I am, still associating with you.”

“Rude, slug. Very rude. You aren't going to attract many patrons like that.”

“Says you. Look.” He reached into his sleeve to retrieve a black velvet jewelry box which he tossed lightly to Dazai. “Ruby,” he said as Dazai opened it to see a pair of gemstone stud earrings. “Think I oughtta get my ears pierced?”

“I think I know a fence who can give me a good price on these,” he replied, tucking the box away into his pocket.

With a shrug, Chuuya took another careful puff of his cigarette. He looked so at ease, dressed as a trainee prostitute and standing alone in a dark alley with the only man who could reduce him to baseline humanity. And he was so small. If Dazai kept growing and Chuuya didn't start, then he wasn't even going to come up to Dazai's shoulder in a year or two. Dazai was going to be able to pick him up by the scruff with barely any effort.

He'd end up with bruises, certainly. Possibly a split lip or a broken bone or two, because Chuuya was exceedingly dangerous, despite his height, ability or no. But he trusted Dazai enough to let him get close. It would be easy.

“The hell are you brooding about?”

“Hmmm...an entertaining way to die?”

“Freak.”

“Pipsqueak.”

Chuuya passed over the cigarette one last time. “I gotta get back in. See you in a few hours.”

“Sure. See you. Take 'em for all they're worth, Honeypot!”

The light from the street gilded the contours of his face as he looked back over his shoulder to mutter: “I will kill you slowly.” And then he slipped back into the golden midnight of the red light district.

Dazai took a long draw from the cigarette, picturing the way Chuuya's lips had pursed at the end of it, and wondering if the photograph had caught the first half of an indirect kiss.

...fuck. His case was terminal. Maybe he could qualify for assisted suicide in one of those enlightened countries that allowed it. That was supposed to be painless, right? Like going to sleep.

Disgusted with himself, Dazai dropped the cigarette and stomped on it, grinding it into the pavement.

Stupid Chuuya.

--------------------------

He'd gotten used to the furisode. He'd gotten used to the makeup and the pomegranate lipstick and the kanzashi and the slope of Chuuya's bared nape. It didn't seem fair that Chuuya showing up to their usual training room wearing the most basic navy blue cotton kimono Dazai had ever seen should have his heart trying to escape his ribs.

Drops of water speckled the fabric around his neck and shoulders. His hair was damp and hastily combed-back, his face flushed from a recent scrubbing. Had he rushed there directly from work without even bothering to remove his makeup? Although the thin, black band of his collar was buckled back in place around his throat, his awful hat was thankfully nowhere to be seen. His posture was back to normal, as well, relaxed and ready to move, all traces of the doll-like stiffness gone. He had a hand on one hip, and seemed wide awake and expectant, no sign that he'd spent the last several hours serving customers while playacting subservience.

“All right,” he said, flapping his sleeves. “Help me figure out how to kick your ass in this thing.”

“That undying optimism of yours is vaguely nauseating.”

“So's your face. Come on. You were the one who used to bitch about me lacking any formal training when it came to fighting, so make with the formal training.”

“Ugh. I thought I was done being your punching bag.”

He watched as Chuuya tried lifting first one leg, then the other, both to the front and the back. The movements were enough to pull the fabric crooked, despite the firmly-tied obi, but from the way he was frowning, the effort in and of itself was a problem, not to mention that he still lacked most of his customary range of movement. And this was with a much lighter kimono than the furisode, one that didn't have the trailing sleeves as another potential hindrance to contend with.

“You'd have to either rip it, or hike it up, particularly considering the way you fight. There's not enough give here to avoid fouling anything more strenuous than kicking an opponent's ankles.”

Kneeling, he tugged lightly at the fall of the kimono just above Chuuya's knee to illustrate his point. He snatched a bit of the fabric fluttering around Chuuya's ankles, rubbing it together between his fingers and trying to decide how much more force it would take to pull silk so far out of alignment.

“I can't rip the damn thing—especially not the one I wear for work. Ane-san'd have my head.” He clicked his tongue. “I'll have to figure out how to tie it up.”

Dazai rolled his eyes. “Yes, I'm sure anyone looking to pick a fight with you will be more than happy to wait while you see to your attire.”

“You're the only one who picks fights with me, asshole. And don't think I ain't petty enough to point the finger straight at you if you fuck up the furisode she's been lending me.”

“Hmmm....” Swiftly, he planted his hands and pivoted, sweeping out a leg to knock Chuuya's feet out from under him. He was up and backing a safe distance away before the stream of curses petered out. “Have you ever heard the saying: 'Discretion is the better part of valor?' I think you're going to have to rely on maintaining distance, and making use of Tainted.”

“What's even the point, then?” he griped. “I already know how to do that.”

“There's no use whining about it. That's simply the best strategy. Your only other option is going to be to fight defensively and learn how to break loose or throw someone who gets a hold of you.”

“Well...teach me that, then. I'll try to think of something to keep the kimono out of the way later.”

“Always looking for a skull to cave in.... You know it would serve your silly farce better if you actually struggled a bit with this, right? If it doesn't look like you've been declawed, Ace isn't going to be so confident about approaching you.”

Chuuya was quiet for a moment. He still hadn't picked himself up from where Dazai had knocked him on his ass. His legs were bent at the knee, ankles splayed where they rested on the floor. The kimono was stretched taut around his calves and thighs, but it still didn't have a lot of give. The dip of fabric between his knees was barely enough room for his arm to rest within it.

“Ane-san took me to an executives' meeting last night,” he said quietly. “She had me serve drinks.”

He was picking at the kimono. His cheeks were pink, brows drawn in and mouth turned down in a scowl.

“What? You didn't enjoy your glimpse of things to come?”

“Fuckin' laugh,” he muttered. “Go ahead. I know it's an op. I know it's just an act. But the way he looked at me...I wanted to punch his fuckin' teeth in. And I couldn't do shit. Couldn't even look him in the eye if I was gonna sell it.”

“Ask Mori-san about punching him once you've gotten your evidence. He'll probably even let you execute him, if you want. He likes rewarding good work.”

“I might.” Drawing his knees up, he folded his arms atop them and laid his head down. “Dazai. What'd you think? Of me being all dressed up, I mean.”

“One of the most ridiculous things I've ever seen in my life. You're a mass casualty incident waiting to happen, and for some reason, a bit of fancy silk wrapping and some hair ornaments make people forget that. I keep hoping I'll wake up, and it'll turn out to have been nothing but a bad dream.”

His eyes crinkled up at the corners, evidence of a smile hidden in the nest of his arms. “That's what makes you almost tolerable. As much as you yank my chain, I'm not a 'thing' to you, am I?”

“More's the pity. 'Things' don't irritate me nearly so much as people who have brains, yet refuse to use them.”

“Hmmm...surprised you haven't murdered Ace, then.”

“I'm not convinced he actually has a brain. I know you do, you lazy slug. You simply push all the hard work onto me.”

“Fuck off!” There was laughter in his tone. “You're the one who just lays back while I do all the heavy lifting, you dried-out mackerel.”