#skktober

“Hmm, I don’t know. Let me think about it,” Dazai says, getting up himself.

“What?! You had this whole time to think about it, are you shitting–”

Dazai grabs Chuuya’s hand suddenly, pointing across the arcade to something that Chuuya can’t even see thanks to a different machine in his way. Stupid beanpole and his stupid height.

“I want that! Chuuya has to get it for me as punishment!” Dazai does a little hop, whining more as he keeps pointing.

Of course he couldn’t clarify what it is. Chuuya doesn’t know if he’s about to agree to paying for a dumb trinket or the whole arcade.

“Stop that,” Chuuya starts, grabbing Dazai’s outstretched arm to reel it in before he smacks some unsuspecting person. “Tell me exactly what it is and what you want me to do. I’m not being forced to do extra work again because you didn’t specify the rules.”

Dazai rolls his eyes, snatching Chuuya’s wrist and practically dragging him to his destination before Chuuya can even react.

As they keep twisting and turning, Chuuya’s beginning to wonder how the bastard even saw whatever he’s aiming for.

And then he sees it.

It’s in one of the claw machines on the top shelf where people with no self-control are supposed to stick the claw’s handle through an itty-bitty hole.

Chuuya does have to admit, though – it IS cute. Very much so. And fluffy enough to have those blankets stores only bring out for the holiday season fucking jealous. 

Staring back at Chuuya with beady, shining eyes is one ginger, stuffed-plush cat big enough to fill Dazai’s greedy arms.

He’ll give it to Dazai – this is nowhere near the worst punishment he’s given. That doesn’t mean Chuuya has to be happy about it as he yanks out his wallet, though.

With even more grumbles, he inserts his first bill of the night, watching with the most deadpan expression he can make as the machine lights up, LEDs going wild in front of them at the prospect of another sucker.

Unfortunately, Chuuya knows how this part of the game goes. Dazai’s grip is tight on him, eyes laser-pointed at the item of his desire. 

Chuuya takes a breath, trying to focus as he feels the heat of Dazai’s hands seeping through his clothes. With a blink, he moves the stick controller, bringing the key towards the little hole on the other side of the glass. He pauses.

Behind him, he hears Dazai sniff, the judgement of it clear to Chuuya. The redhead whirls around.

“Bastard, fix it yourself–” and from the corner of his eye, he sees the key start to move forward, the timer having run out.

It misses by a centimeter. Chuuya growls, getting ready to insert the next bill.

Dazai continues his hold on him, this time going so far as to wrap his arms around his shoulders from behind and lean his head against the side of Chuuya’s.

The electric lights do their silly little dance again, and this time Chuuya makes sure to concentrate. This machine will. not. beat. him.

He lines it up, taking a moment to think. Dazai taps his chest twice, and Chuuya shifts the stick to the right the smallest amount he possibly can.

Just as he’s about to hit the button to get it to move, something bumps into Dazai and thus him, pushing him forward enough to hit the stick and the timer goes off.

Chuuya watches as the handle misses by more than just a centimeter.

And then a chill goes down his spine. He shifts in Dazai’s hold, glancing up and over his shoulder to see those black hole eyes pinpointed on a kid who didn’t even bother to apologize. Before the Demon Prodigy can cause anyone, child or not, to piss themselves, Chuuya shrugs him off.

He inserts one more bill. Just as Dazai moves to go back to his perch, Chuuya sticks his hand out to stop him.

The machine whirls to life again, this time with a red glow barely enveloping it. Chuuya brings the handle to where it was before using the actual stick, then from here he lets the machine do its thing.

As the key moves forward, he forces the machine to line itself up in the correct position, feeling the mechanics trying to go against him but they’re no use against the power of gravity.

The key fits perfectly, unlocking the glass box holding the plush and releasing it into a hole beneath it. A thunk near their feet alerts them to its delivery, and Dazai is quick to snatch it up and into his waiting arms, any traces of the Demon Prodigy long gone as he beams at Chuuya.

“Thanks, Chibi!” He squeezes the cat against his chest, and Chuuya tries to ignore the small thrill of butterflies flying around his stomach.

He frowns, looking away and crossing his arms. “Tch, whatever.”

He opens his eyes again. There, across from them in a corner of the store he couldn’t see earlier, is one of those shooting carnival games, this time with nerf darts to avoid any liabilities.

And above it, hanging from a little loop connected to the roof, is a black cat plush — reminiscent of Dazai’s new one to the point it could be from the same brand, a matching set.

He only spends a second staring at it, debating, before turning away. He’s got better things to spend his money on. It doesn’t matter how soft it looks or how cute. He’s not a kid like Dazai.

He makes a move for the exit, intent on getting out before he can rethink his decisions.

A foot to his shins has him almost hitting the floor. He knows exactly who did it as he catches himself. He couldn’t use his ability just then, after all.

“Dazai, what the fu–”

“Shh, there’s children in here,” Dazai admonishes, his trademark fake gasp popping out, albeit a little less dramatic. Before Chuuya can question it, Dazai’s twirling around to face the carnival-esque shooting game and marching forward, one of his hands wrapped around Chuuya’s wrist much like before.

“One round, please,” the brunet says, taking out his own wallet that Chuuya’s never actually seen until now and handing the cash over to the employee. With the nerf gun equipped, he glances at Chuuya for a split second and sends him a smirk. “Watch and learn, Chuuya.”

Chuuya really can only watch and learn as Dazai effortlessly hits five different targets in their bullseyes, one after the other. The electronics connected to them flash over and over with each hit.

And once a moment has passed for both the employee and Chuuya to pick up their jaws – mostly the employee, though – Dazai sets the gun back down and merely points up at the black cat plush.

The employee gets it down, leaving it on the counter for them to take.

Chuuya doesn’t immediately reach for it. Why would Dazai do this? It doesn’t make sense to him.

Dazai nudges his shoulder and he hesitantly reaches out to grab the plush.

Today is one of the few days he decided to forgo his gloves; the cat’s fur is just as soft as it looked. From here, he can tell that this one is a black version of Dazai’s, a duo set.

He’s never had a plush of his own.

“Why?” he asks, avoiding Dazai’s eyes as he stares into the black fur. Something in his chest is warming up. What, he doesn’t know.

“Chuuya wanted him,” Dazai says, shifting on his feet to sway from his toes to the balls of his feet. “And a thank-you for Slug.”

/That/ causes Chuuya to look up. “Hah?”

“What? He looks like chibi, doesn’t he?” Dazai shoves the orange plush into Chuuya’s face. “See, see?”

Chuuya scoffs, shoving ‘Slug’ out of the way. He sticks his tongue out. “If he’s Slug, then this one’s Mackerel.”

Dazai laughs then, high and airy – genuine – and Chuuya can only attempt to hide his reddening cheeks behind Mackerel’s head. He follows as the brunet leads them outside where the sun has begun to set.