#mushitango

Mushitaro bringing a tired Ango some coffee!

(did u know i also wrote for bsd??? hehehe) 

Mushitaro/Ango (Rarepair) 

Fluff, Comfort, Angst, Moving on, Falling in Love, Bittersweet

word count: 1k 

summary: Ango isn’t alone at Bar Lupin for once after the incident that occured. 

That night Sakaguchi Ango betrayed his friends. In a way, he was responsible for the death of Sakunosuke Oda. But because of Oda’s death, a new soul was returned to the light. 

Lupin, a bar tucked away in an alleyway a car ride away from Yokohama, was their place. The three of them would sit together and enjoy a glass of Whiskey-or on that night, Ango indulged in a class of tomato juice.  The young port mafia executive would annoy the two constantly, chatting about his field of work or his darkest desire. But Ango would never really listen to Dazai, for he’d look at Oda with eyes filled with emotion. 

Whenever Oda would speak, Ango would hide behind his glass and push up his glasses. He’d straightened up his tie, and cleared his throat. He knew he couldn’t hide this from the great Dazai, but he attempted to anyway. 

Sakaguchi Ango had fallen for Sakunosuke Oda deeply and more than he would ever expect. Ango loved the nights where he’d stumble into the bar with the Dazai and Oda already there, sharing updates about life over drinks, and attempting to listen to Dazai’s rants about a certain redhead. 

He’d love the taste of whiskey slightly diluted by the ice cube, and the feeling of a cat’s tail brushing against his face. He’d love the feeling of the barstools the three would sit on, and the act of unwinding down after a long day of work. 

But today. Ango sat at the bar alone. He sat in the same seat as he’d always do, the far right. He ordered a glass of whiskey this time, and watched the ice cube bounce up and down. Ango sighed, drinking it. The bitter taste slipping down his throat reminded him of the bittersweet days, and the way that his best friend was gone. 

Ango was the traitor. Ango broke up the group. 

He sipped the alcohol hoping for a voice to  tell him that it wasn’t his fault. 

And in truth, it was much more complicated. 

That day, Mushitaro Oguri committed the Perfect Crime. Strangling his friend  Yokomizo, watching their expression from a smile turn to a lifeless face. Tears streaming down his face, he erased all evidence of the scene and walked away. 

“For a mystery novelist, I am quite disinterested in them.” He spoke, watching the brunette drink his sorrows away. 

“Then why do you write them?” Ango asked, leaning back and fixing his posture. 

“Because a friend of mine really enjoyed them.” He spoke, picking up his own drink and sipping on it. 

“Ah, guess we have that in common.” Ango nodded, adjusting his glasses. “I do a lot of things for a friend as well.” 

Mushitaro smiled, leaning in close with a small smile on his face, curious and intrigued. His eyes watched Ango softly, and ready to listen. Mushitaro thought that Ango had a nice voice. 

“You’ve mentioned that in Anne’s Room, what was he like?” 

“Kind…” He paused for a moment, He closed his eyes and took a deep breath and then continued. “He worked for a cruel organization but he was the opposite. He was deadly and lethal, but he was always kind and gentle. He didn’t let power corrupt him and he would always do the right thing even if…” He paused again. 

Mushitaro continued listening, waiting patiently for the man to continue his sentence. The sound of jazz started to fill in the silence, and Mushitaro couldn’t help but understand him, feel his pain and knew what he was going to say. 

“Even if it meant dying in the end.” Ango choked out. 

Mushitaro hummed, leaning back and taking a sip of his drink again. He looked off to the side, as let out a soft sigh. 

“You really cared about him, didn’t you?” “I did, yeah.” 

Jazz played softly again. 

“How about you?” Ango asked, “I can’t have you being silent and me spilling everything out.” Mushitaro laughed. He rested his chin on his hand as he looked up at the collection of alcohol displayed behind the bar. 

“Well, he was stubborn, kind, and intelligent. He was a friend of mine ever since I can remember, and despite our differences, we’d always stay close. He’d always talk to me about how his stories were doing, and the plots. I didn’t care for them really, but he had a really nice voice, so I didn’t mind. He was willing to sacrifice himself for his work to create the perfect murder mystery,” Mushitaro blabbered on, his hands moving as he explained things, while Ango chuckled. He had found Mushitaro’s mannerisms interesting and almost endearing 

Mushitaro was certainly  different from Oda. Oda was reserved, and sometimes Ango thought that Oda needed more sleep, but with the man sitting next to him, Ango wouldn’t have to worry. He’d either think that this man was just full of energy every moment or he drank several espressos. The idea made Ango chuckle to himself in his mind. 

“Both of their deaths though aren’t in vain though.” Ango spoke, snapping from his thoughts, as Mushitaro nodded. 

“A lot of good things happened from it too.” Mushitaro agreed, as he fished out his wallet. 

Ango took notice of this as he tsked. His hand reached out in the air, accidentally touching Mushitaro’s, stopping him from paying for the drinks. He cleared his throat once again. 

“I got this.” Ango smiled, paying for his drinks and then getting up from the barstool. 

“You know, it was nice chatting with you.” He chuckled, as Mushitaro smiled back, as the crisp air danced through their hair, as they both cleared their throats and adjusted their ties. 

“Hey, it wasn’t your fault, by the way.” Mushitaro smiled, before walking away in the moonlit night. 

Ango smiled to himself, watching the man walk away. His eyes began to glitter once again and he nodded in agreement. 

“And it wasn’t yours, either.” 

It was strange. But isn’t that what thickens the plot?