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scriveyner · 1 year

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oh christmas lights, keep shining on

oh christmas lights, keep shining on | bungou stray dogs | 👿🐯 | ~3400 words

Atsushi turned his head slightly and frowned at the window. He’d caught a flash of movement from the corner of his eye, he thought—but it was dark outside, and the bright festivities behind him were reflected instead—so he was probably just seeing things. Kyouka-chan, however, noticed his distraction. “Is everything alright?”

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“Yeah,” Atsushi said, and smiled brightly. “I think I’m just tired, it’s getting late.” Kyouka gave him a suspicious look, but Atsushi didn’t give her the chance to press him further, slipping away when Kenji turned to her and asked a question.

What was supposed to be a simple office Christmas party had somehow been hijacked into, ostensibly, a Job™—but Atsushi rather suspected that Dazai-san had played around with his connections in the right configuration to get them, instead, a very nice, very swank party in a penthouse that they would have never been able to afford otherwise.

The “job” portion of the evening had been babysitting some celebrities on a movie press tour that had gotten a threat from an ability user—which mysteriously never materialized—and now their regular security detail had arrived to relieve them of duty, leaving the Agency to it at a party with an open bad and more expensive food than Atsushi had ever seen laid out on a table ripe for the picking.

“I think Dazai phoned in the threat himself,” Ranpo said, perched on a chair with a plate balanced on his knees, stacked high with sweets that seemed to be ignoring all known laws of physics.

“You think, or you know?” Atsushi asked, and Ranpo raised an eyebrow behind his glasses. Atsushi sighed, because, well, Dazai-san. “Kunikida-san isn’t going to be very happy about that.”

“Are you going to tell him? Because I’m not planning on it.” Ranpo swiftly devoured a small piece of cake. He was giving Atsushi that same long, measured look that Kyouka-chan did sometimes, and he hated it because it felt like he was being read like a book. “Is there something wrong, Atsushi-kun?”

“No, why does everyone keep asking me that?” Atsushi looked down at himself. The suit he was wearing for the evening was in one piece and fit him well; he had a drink in his hand, and otherwise couldn’t figure out why he was being subjected to the third degree by every person he talked to. “Do I look like there’s something wrong?”

“You look like you’re on edge,” Naomi said as she plonked herself into their conversation, dragging Tanizaki behind her. “Did something happen with your boyfriend?”

Tanizaki opened his mouth to cut her off but didn’t make it in time, his face comically frozen. Ranpo looked from Naomi to Atsushi, clearly very interested now, and Atsushi stared at Naomi.

“My…my what?”

“Oops,” she delicately covered her mouth with her hand. “Did I say too much? ‘niisan, I think I need another drink!” She swung right around Ranpo, still dragging a completely abashed Tanizaki and headed straight toward the bar. Atsushi watched them go, completely baffled, and then looked at Ranpo.

“My what?” he repeated, weakly, and Ranpo immediately crammed an entire Christmas cookie in his mouth, crunching loudly. “What was she talking about, Ranpo-san?”

Ranpo apologetically pointed to his full mouth and crunched, if possible, louder.

“Atsushi~kyun~!” Dazai’s voice sang threateningly through the crowd, and Atsushi sighed, already distracted and turning in Dazai’s direction. He was on edge, he could admit that much, although he didn’t entirely know why. It was no one’s fault that was present tonight, and it was Christmas, so he should do his best to enjoy the evening and not make trouble for his friends.

“What is it, Dazai-san?” Atsushi asked when he finally located Dazai, seated on the floor, gangly legs sprawled out in front of him and an enormous pout on his face. He’d already been into the open bar, which shouldn’t be an issue because he’d seen Dazai knock out an entire bottle of whiskey without twitching an eyelid, so he was clearly putting on a show for someone’s benefit tonight.

Dazai tugged on his trouser leg. “Mommy-san is being mean,” he said, and gestured to Kunikida, unwinding a noose from the tree proudly displayed as the centerpiece in the room. Atsushi stared at the noose, and then at Dazai, who beamed up at him. After a moment Atsushi sighed again and extracted himself from Dazai’s faux-drunken grip.

“Dazai-san, did you need some water? You’ve drunk quite a bit tonight.” He could play this game.

“Yes, please! An entire bowl big enough for my head, if you can!”

Atsushi went to fetch him a bottle of water from the bar. The party was far from just the Agency, as the celebrities were still here, along with their assorted hangers-on; Atsushi hadn’t paid any of them much mind as they’d been promoting some action movie release and were only now allowed to unwind without press present. That meant that quite a few of them were clustered around said bar, and it took Atsushi longer than he thought to get close enough to obtain water and retreat.

To get back around the crowd he had to go the long way, which took him close to the wall of windows that overlooked the bay. He paused a moment, looking at the bright city lights in his own reflection, twinkling merrily, and his mouth quirked. Something was missing, and, for the life of him, he couldn’t pinpoint what.

Just as he was about to turn away from the window, Akutagawa’s scowling face appeared, upside-down, outside the window.

Atsushi yelped and jumped back into the person behind him; they went over in a flurry of limbs, together.

“Oi!” the guy said as Atsushi scrambled to his feet, stumbling over his apology as he helped his unintended victim up as well. “Watch where you’re going next time!”

“Oh, don’t make a fuss, Gotou-san,” the other guy who helped them both up said. “It was an accident, you’re fine.”

Atsushi bowed again in apology and darted back to the window, but now there was no sign of anyone there on the outside, least of all Akutagawa. Consigning it to nerves, he edged carefully around the group, trying to ignore the stink eye from the person he’d knocked over, and headed for the elevators.

There was no one in the elevator lobby, which was a relief. Atsushi gathered himself, folding his arms and tucking his chin to his chest, taking a few deep breaths to center himself. There was no way Akutagawa was hanging around outside the whatever-eth-story this penthouse was on; he wouldn’t have the first clue where Atsushi was tonight and even if he did, he wouldn’t be performing jump-scares, he’d just come through the window at him to engage like usual.

Okay, maybe not “like usual.” They were capable of existing in the same space without bloodshed these days. Atsushi groaned; the weird feeling in his chest was tightening again, and there was no way he was going back to the party now. He needed some air.

The rooftop access wasn’t locked, which Atsushi felt was a massive security risk of some kind, especially on a building as tall as this one, but it suited his purposes for the moment so he wasn’t actually complaining. He shivered just outside the door, it was cold outside, and he hadn’t noticed when looking out the window, but it was snowing somewhat, the occasional big fat flakes that would coast by on the wind.

A sharp breeze caught his suitcoat and tugged it, and Atsushi shivered again. Okay, that was enough air. He’d head back inside, maybe eat some of that meat he’d been quietly salivating over but trying not to gorge himself on, and they’d leave after the day turned over and he wouldn’t have to think about—

Akutagawa, standing across the roof from him, in the lee of another rooftop access and staring at him silently, Rashomon rippling off his shoulders and tinged in red.

Atsushi stared right back at him, arms folded, and shivering, and said, “don’t tell me you were the called-in threat, because if you are, you’re late.”

Whatever Akutagawa expected to come out of his mouth it clearly was not that. His mouth twisted into a sneer that Atsushi could see from here. “Foolish weretiger,” he sniffed. “I am never late.”

“Are you kidding me?” Atsushi rubbed his nose with his hand, and announced, “I am going back inside. It is way too cold out here to deal with you right now.” He started to turn to do precisely that, when a Rashomon tendril wrapped securely around his waist. “Hey! I am wearing nice clothes, don’t make me—!”

The rest of his sentence was lost into the wind, as suddenly he was flying dizzyingly through the air, flipping around like a ragdoll with Rashomon his only tether. The air was a frigid blast against his face, but he managed to keep his eyes open, watching the building go by sideways, and then another building, and then he lost count because he was spinning around like a carnival ride and couldn’t keep himself oriented until Akutagawa deposited him feet-first on a gravel rooftop several blocks from the building where the party was still going on.

Atsushi swayed in place for about fifteen seconds, then turned and heaved.

“Pathetic,” Akutagawa said, gruffly, absolutely none the worse for wear, and Atsushi crouched and heaved again, but didn’t produce anything because, unlike his coworkers, he had not yet had the chance to pig out at the buffet.

“What,” Atsushi managed when he was done coughing, “the absolute fuck is wrong with you?” Not that he expected an answer from Akutagawa because this was something they’d rehashed at least three times, but still. “I was at work, you know! They’re going to come looking for me!”

“If you had simply responded to your messages in a timely manner I wouldn’t have had to come looking for you.”

He glared at Akutagawa and then pushed off his thighs, straightening. Atsushi felt his pockets, suddenly afraid he lost his phone with the acrobatics, but it was still safely in his trousers. He saw a half-dozen missed messages and a voicemail. “Did you leave me a voicemail?” Atsushi asked, halfway between amazed and afraid, because knowing Akutagawa there were even odds that it was either an annoyed grunt or a twenty-minute-long screed of everything Atsushi had done wrong in the past three months.

He skimmed the messages, and then looked at Akutagawa. “How did you even know where I was?” he asked, paused, and then said, very dangerously, “have you put a tracker on my phone?”

“Of course not,” Akutagawa said. “I am no stalker.”

They stared at each other silently, snow drifting between them, because they both knew that wasn’t true. Finally, Akutagawa admitted, “however, there are some who wish to know Dazai-san’s location at all times.”

He was going to let that one go because a Dazai tracker felt like a dream for a second and he could not allow himself to entertain the thought, but then Akutagawa continued, “and so, I figured you could not be that far behind.”

Okay, ouch. Dazai went off on his own all the time. Atsushi didn’t follow him around like a lost duckling. That much. Anymore. “Well, you found me,” he said, brushing snow off the shoulders of his suitcoat. “What was so important that you had to spam my phone with notifications and then show up when I didn’t respond?”

“It is Christmas Eve.”

“Yeah, for like another hour.” Atsushi finally looked back over to Akutagawa, and he was wearing a curious expression, staring at Atsushi silently, mouth pressed into a flat line. It all hit him suddenly like he’d wandered into the path of a train. “Did you…you wanted to spend Christmas Eve together?" A long, long pause. “With me?”

Akutagawa said, softly, “you are averse to the idea.”

He was dumbfounded, is what he was. “I had no clue.”

“Clearly.” Akutagawa gathered himself, that tension he carried himself with piling on—Atsushi hadn’t even noticed its absence until it returned. “I overstepped.” He turned and began to walk away, and Atsushi watched him start to disappear into the darkness between the rooftop fixtures.

Something seized in his throat, and before he could even think about unwinding it he said, “Akutagawa, wait.”

Akutagawa stopped walking and turned his head slightly to acknowledge he’d heard but didn’t turn around. Atsushi sighed and scruffed his hand through his hair, his other hand on his hip. “I guess-I mean, my evening has freed up, so if you wanted, I suppose we could hang out.”

“Hang out.”

Atsushi shrugged. “What else did you have planned?”

Now he turned entirely around and gave Atsushi a measured look before nodding as if he was satisfied with something. “Fine. Follow me.”

Atsushi shook his head once, both hands on his hips, and followed.

This late in the evening, most of the attractions along the street were closed. Atsushi looked up at the brilliant display of lights above the sidewalks as they walked together; the snow having grown even lighter than before, the occasional fat flake hurrying across the path but largely forgotten in the night. Atsushi wasn’t really certain what he was doing, he was probably already missed from the quote-unquote office party, but…whatever it was that had been keeping him on edge all night seemed to have evaporated, so he’d rather not go back to that.

Akutagawa, surprisingly, was not dressed in his usual clothes. Atsushi hadn’t noticed at first, likely due to his sudden travel accommodations vis-à-vis Rashomon, but Akutagawa was dressed in a blazer and a button-down, underneath a nice, heavy dark coat—not the torn and ragged garment Atsushi was most used to seeing him wear.

Atsushi stopped to watch the changing lights in some of the trees, the patterns dancing between branches and over their heads, and Akutagawa stopped as well, remaining patiently by his side. “So, what did you want to do?” Atsushi asked him, and when he looked over, he realized that Akutagawa was intently watching him. It made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. “Most everything is closed at this point, isn’t it?”

“I am enjoying looking at the lights with you.”

Oh. Atsushi hadn’t realized that was what they were doing. He wished suddenly for a scarf to touch his nose into because he was pretty sure he just blushed and didn’t like that one bit. He instead folded his arms and shivered again. “Maybe we should look for some light displays that might be indoors,” he suggested since he didn’t have a coat and he was cold, dammit.

Akutagawa inclined his head and then stepped closer. Before Atsushi could think to defend himself, Akutagawa hooked his arm through Atsushi’s and drew him into step—and then, suddenly, Atsushi felt warmth cascade down his shoulders and back. He startled and meant to draw back, but Akutagawa’s arm kept him in place. “Keep still,” Akutagawa ordered sharply, and Atsushi did, eyes wide, as Akutagawa concentrated.

He didn’t release Atsushi, but after a moment the weight of it lifted but the warmth remained, and Atsushi stared at Akutagawa. “Rashomon will keep us both warm,” Akutagawa said, and Atsushi looked down at the shimmering-red glow that lined the black cloak that Akutagawa had wrapped around them both.

“…okay,” Atsushi said weakly because what else was he supposed to say at this point? His head spun as they resumed walking, arm in arm now, underneath the trees drenched in light. He didn’t understand. He didn’t. What was going on here?”

“Akutagawa,” Atsushi said. “What is…what are we doing, right now? What is this?” He swallowed, suddenly remembering Naomi’s words. “Is this a…?” He couldn’t finish his thought.

Fortunately, he didn’t have to. Akutagawa didn’t look at him. “Weretiger,” he said, and his voice was soft but tight. “Please allow me this, tonight. We can be whatever you want us to be tomorrow, but…allow me this, tonight.”

Atsushi swallowed again, hard, but didn’t reply.

He thought Akutagawa’s arm would be cold, but where their elbows were linked, he was warm. He couldn’t think of a time they’d touched that hadn’t immediately led to actual bloodshed, and this…was nice. He could pretend for the moment that they weren’t mortal enemies. That maybe, they were friends.

There was an enormous Christmas tree in the warehouse district plaza; and even if the market was already shut down for the night it remained brilliantly lit. There were a few people around, coming and going, but hardly anyone lingered to enjoy it. Keeping his eyes on the tree, Atsushi squeezed Akutagawa’s arm and said, “I’m hungry. Think we could maybe find someplace still open?”

He was careful not to look at Akutagawa when he spoke, but Akutagawa’s voice sounded warm, for once. “I am certain that something can be arranged.”

The restaurant was far nicer than Atsushi expected; decorated fully for the holiday. He would have been content with a hole-in-the-wall izakaya, or even cart ramen, despite the cold—but Akutagawa steered them here, walking through the door with the confidence that they belonged there, and they were shown to a table with a view of the live music; a pianist playing slow and recognizable holiday music. The lights were low, letting the twinkling holiday decorations take center stage, and there was a lit candle in the center of every table.

“You planned this,” Atsushi accused and didn’t know what to feel about it. Akutagawa raised an eyebrow but took his menu from him and ordered for them both before Atsushi could even open his mouth to protest. “Akutagawa,” he said, aghast when the waiter returned with wine, and he ordered steak.

“Indulge me,” Akutagawa said, eyes dark in the dim light, and Atsushi fiddled with the wine glass before sighing and relenting.

The wine made him warm and relaxed, and then the food came and that was all he thought about for a while. The pianist went on break and the chatter of the other patrons filled the empty space where the music had been before; when Atsushi looked up Akutagawa was watching him again, the corner of his mouth upturned into something like a smile.

The expression made him feel warm, like the wine, so he buried that thought in the bottom of the glass.

They walked again, arm in arm, Rashomon over their shoulders like a cloak—but this time it didn’t feel as awkward. It was comfortable beside Akutagawa, and maybe they were a little closer than arm in arm, Atsushi leaned comfortably against his side. A clock chimed, somewhere, and he realized they’d lost an hour easily while they were eating when it rang only a single chime. “Ah,” Atsushi said, surprised. “It’s Christmas.”

“So it is, weretiger.” They were nearing the building where the office party was. Atsushi’s gut twisted; he didn’t want this moment to end. “And I must—”

Atsushi wasn’t sure what Akutagawa was going to say, but it turned it out it didn’t really matter. He turned, their arms still linked, put his free hand on Akutagawa's face, and kissed him.

“Thank you for the meal,” Atsushi said. “Merry Christmas, Akutagawa.”

And where have you been?” Kunikida said as Atsushi slunk through the lobby, cheeks rushed a rosy red by the cold. “I could have used your assistance wrangling Dazai, thank goodness none of those windows actually open…”

Atsushi rubbed the back of his hand over his nose, distracted. “Ah, sorry, Kunikida-san,” he said, and wandered past. “I had a date.”

Kunikida watched him drift away and frowned. “A date…?” he repeated and looked over at Yosano, still sitting at the bar, heels on the floor and bare feet resting on the metal rail that ran the length of the bar.

“Oh, leave him alone, Kunikida,” Yosano said. “It’s Christmas. Have a drink with me.”

Somewhere outside, lost in the darkness, Akutagawa stared up at the building that Atsushi had vanished into. It started to snow again, and he coughed wetly, before touching his fingers to his lips. Then he sighed, tucking his hands into his pockets, the edge of a smile turning up the corner of his mouth as he turned and vanished into the night.

#bungou stray dogs #sskk #shin soukoku #akuatsu #christmas fluff #what no smut for xmas catie #not yet at least

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