where the heart is

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/46392034.

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: M/M
Fandom: 文豪ストレイドッグス | Bungou Stray Dogs
Relationships: Dazai Osamu/Sigma (Bungou Stray Dogs), Minor or Background
Relationship(s)
Characters: Sigma (Bungou Stray Dogs), Dazai Osamu (Bungou Stray Dogs), Lucy
Maud Montgomery (Bungou Stray Dogs), Edgar Allan Poe (Bungou
Stray Dogs), Armed Detective Agency Ensemble (Bungou Stray Dogs)
Additional Tags: Slow Burn, Armed Detective Agency Member Sigma (Bungou Stray
Dogs), Sigma-centric (Bungou Stray Dogs), First Kiss, Feelings
Realization, Falling In Love, Bungou Stray Dogs Manga Spoilers, Panic
Attacks, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Sickfic, during one
part, Found Family, He/Him and They/Them Pronouns for Sigma
(Bungou Stray Dogs), Past Dazai Osamu/Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou
Stray Dogs), ranpo in the background being a whore, Minor Lucy Maud
Montgomery/Nakajima Atsushi (Bungou Stray Dogs), Minor Edogawa
Ranpo/Edgar Allan Poe (Bungou Stray Dogs), ada lucy and poe too!!!
they passed their extrance exams, Mentioned Fyodor Dostoyevsky
(Bungou Stray Dogs), Sharing a Bed, and they were housemates..., ok
COMMENT SMASH LIKE AND SUBSCRIBE
Language: English
Series: Part 1 of sigzai
Stats: Published: 2023-04-10 Words: 34,884 Chapters: 1/1
 where the heart is
by astraltrain

Summary

The first piece of bad news that Sigma receives after being told they passed their entrance
exam into the agency is the lack of space that these people are given to work with.
-
Sigma is made to share a dorm with Dazai, which is really the worst case scenario for him.
Being in the agency is altogether not what he wanted for his future. But with Dostoyevsky on
the loose, there's nothing more he can do, so he supposes he'll have to get over his strange
feelings for the detective and deal with it until he can leave. Or try to, at least.

Notes

wrote this right after 106.5 came out bc my sigzai brainrot finally out onto paper and now
we're here. just letting u all know i had to make a ton of shit up for this fic to make sense so
anything that makes no sense just ignore it tbh Sob... and enjoy :3

See the end of the work for more notes

The first piece of bad news that Sigma receives after being told they passed their entrance
exam into the agency is the lack of space that these people are given to work with.

"Ok," Kunikida starts, looking frazzled as ever, hair sticking up at the ends like he's been
given an electric shock. He adjusts his glasses, seemingly as less of an actual need to fix them
and more to give his hands something to do now that he doesn't have piles of documents and
files to cradle in them. "Ah, this is a disaster… Ok, so it may have been mentioned to you
that with the recent surge in government funding we've received, and with the addition of
three new members into our ranks, we are working on finding a place for new dormitories.
However, our agency has been struggling with much larger problems as of late, so this has
been put on the back burner as of right now. So the situation is this."

He straightens in his desk chair, swaying slightly for a brief moment in a way that leads
Sigma to believe that he must not have slept for a good amount of time recently. Kunikida
clears his throat and then peers back up at the person standing before him over his glasses
lens. He looks exhausted. "Poe will be sharing a dorm room with Ranpo," he says wearily,
rubbing his forehead with his fingertips. "Lucy will be sharing with Yosano - I'd love to put
her with Atsushi and Kyouka, and they'd all far prefer this too, but three people in a room
made for one person is a recipe for disaster. And, ah." He clicks something in his computer
screen, the light shining on his face brightening. "You will be sharing with Dazai."

Sigma would frankly rather Kunikida just pull a glock from his vest and shoot them dead
right now.

"What?" he says hoarsely, the first words he's spoken in actual hours. Sigma has been
spending time setting up his new computer along with everyone else in the agency, who are
all delighted to finally be given new and upgraded equipment to work with. He's been
keeping mostly to himself the entire day, except for when - "Mr Kunikida, I apologize, but is
there someone else I could share a room with? Anyone else would be preferred. Literally
anyone."

Kunikida shoots them a pained, apologetic glance, grimacing slightly. "I am sorry," he tells
them, and Sigma's heart sinks. "It will hopefully be only a temporary situation, and then we'll
all be relocating to a larger living location. The agency just needs time to get back on its feet.
I'm sure you understand, Sigma, yes? I wouldn't do this unless this was absolutely necessary.
Trust me. I've been Dazai's partner for years, and I generally wouldn't pin him on my worst
enemy."

This does not quell the anxieties in Sigma's chest even slightly, and in fact only fuels them,
making them feel mildly sick even as something hot boils under their skin. Desperate, they
lean forward and slam their hands on Kunikida's desk just before the man's coffee cup that
quivers under Sigma's strength. They usually wouldn't be so terribly rude, but this is quite
literally the worst case scenario that they could ever have imagined, worse than the desert,
worse than the Decay, worse than Meursault. "Mr Kunikida," they say firmly, but even with
their tone of voice, their eyes are pleading, fixed on Kunikida's tired grey ones behind his
glasses. "I will do anything in order to be put with someone else. Anyone else. That Kenji kid
seemed like he'd be happy to accommodate guests - and Tanizaki was very kind to me this
morning, perhaps he would be ok with me staying a while? Please. I cannot live with that
man."

They stare at each other for a good minute before Kunikida sighs very, very deeply, chest
rattling with the force of it. "I'm afraid that Kenji's living space is - rather oriented around his
ability. He's made some significant changes to it. It wouldn't be fit for two people. And both
the Tanizaki twins live together outside of the dorms. Trust me, you'd want nothing to do with
whatever they get up to away from work anyway."

Sigma decides he's not going to ask what that means. "What about you?" he tries desperately,
giving up on trying to keep his voice professional as he slips into a whine instead. "I would
be happy to live with you, you seem like a very nice man. You live alone, correct? Please. I'll
do anything."

However, his pleading has no effect on the stony faced man. "I value my privacy," Kunikida
simply says. "It goes against my ideals. I apologize."

"Could you compromise your ideals just this once?" Sigma begs, clasping his hands together.

Kunikida shakes his head. "I already compromise my ideals for Dazai on a daily basis every
time I'm on a schedule and he threatens to pass out if I don't stop somewhere and get him
sushi," he tells them. "I do wish you good luck. Remember, it's only temporary."

Defeated, Sigma slumps and turns away after a huff and a muttered yes, sir. Privately, he
thinks that the idea of having an ideal that goes against living with other people sounds more
like an excuse than anything, but he supposes he can't blame the man. He'd most certainly do
the same thing if he could.

It has been a week since everything had come to a head and Fukuchi had been arrested. Since
then, Sigma's life has been nothing but hell, and they can't help but curse Dostoyevsky's name
with every minor inconvenience they experience.

The situation in Meursault had been so chaotic that they had to have everything explained to
them when they finally got back out into the fresh autumn air. When Dazai pushed Sigma out
the elevator, he had really been planning to die and leave them to escape by themself.
However, Nakahara, the gravity manipulator, had freed himself from Dostoyevsky's control
and reluctantly saved him before he hit the bottom. Meanwhile, Gogol had returned and tried
to use Sigma in an attempt to understand Dostoyevsky's ability and use it to kill him. But
Dazai and Nakahara had returned and finally faced off against the enemy, and Sigma had
been the third wheel in these murderous duos as they usually found themself being, and the
rest had been a bit of a blur.

The point was that they'd all escaped and Dazai had nullified Stoker's ability, leaving those
who had been vampirified completely fine. Dostoyevsky and Gogol had disappeared,
something that still terrifies Sigma to death when he sleeps at night. The agency's name had
been cleared with the help of government agent Ango Sakaguchi and Hunting Dog Tachihara
Michizō. And Sigma, along with two people they didn't know who went by the names Poe
and Lucy, had all passed entrance exams to the agency that they didn't even know they were
taking.

Of course, they'd been given the option to refuse the position, which Sigma had almost done
immediately when they realized exactly who they'd be sharing their new occupation with.
However. However. The small matter of Dostoyevsky and Gogol still being unfortunately at
large left Sigma with no option but to seek protection under one of the largest Ability user
oriented organizations they knew. Which led to them being here, a member of the Armed
Detective Agency. Something they most certainly didn't want, a job they were absolutely
going to quit at the soonest opportunity there was to safely do so.

Sigma had hoped they'd catch Dostoyevsky quickly. That he wouldn't have to stay here for
long, that his old work colleagues, if one could call them that, would be detained and he
would be free to wander the earth and assume any job he wanted without fear of being
tortured or killed for his uselessness. But it's been a week and Sigma is actually now finding
himself doing work for these people. Boring, tedious, agency work.

The Director had told Sigma that he could take as much time as he needed to to recover from
the incidents he'd been through in the past few weeks. But Sigma has politely denied the time
off. He'd been festering away in hotel rooms since escaping Meursault and frankly, the stress
and paranoia was killing him out there. The dull work of the agency was worth the protection
he received in return. Besides, it hasn't been as difficult as casino manager work had been. At
least he's not expected to be in a million places at once these days, not expected to memorize
thousands upon thousands of pieces of data in order to keep his position. For the first time in
as many years as he's been alive, Sigma is allowed to simply, unconditionally exist.

They're not sure they're enjoying the freedom. They miss the casino. The days they'd spent
there, as few as they'd really been, had been the best of their life.

But that had all been ruined, ruined by one specific man - which leads Sigma to his current
situation. He doesn't have the budget to be spending on hotels anymore. He will have to share
a dorm room with Dazai Osamu.

Sigma has been trying not to think about Dazai since Meursault. It makes his damn head hurt.

"Oh, good," comes a voice, and the door swings open to reveal a man on the other side.
"You're here. I was worried I had scared you off and you were going to try and hunt down
Dostoyevsky to avoid rooming with me."

Sigma had considered it, but they aren't going to tell Dazai that.

One thing that has interested Sigma greatly since escaping Meursault is seeing Dazai outside
of the prison jumpsuit he'd been dressed in previously. It's not to do with Dazai's looks.
Sigma can admit that the man is good looking - he'd recognized that even before they'd
gotten out. But Dazai's usual state of dress makes him look like an entirely different man. He
seems to favour patterned button ups and dimly coloured vests, neat slacks and polished dark
shoes, and it gives him a much brighter aura, especially with the addition of the tan trench
coat he often wears on top of everything else. Seeing him dressed so smartly makes Sigma
feel things he can't explain. So far, he's opted not to think about it at all.

Dazai pulls the door open further to let Sigma in. He's dressed down today, which makes
sense, given that he's not at work, but it still surprises Sigma to see him in only a loose button
up and tracksuit bottoms without even his usual blue bolo tie that usually completes his
outfit. His dark hair is mussed, like he's just woken up, but there is a great smile on his face
that makes his eyes thin and a dimple appear in his right cheek. He looks actually happy to
see them.

His smile dips slightly when Sigma doesn't move to enter the room and just stands stiffly in
the doorway. They see Dazai's eyes lower to the single limp bag in the new detective's hand,
and flinch with embarrassment, knowing the man is judging the clear lack of contents. It's not
Sigma's fault that all their belongings were destroyed when the Sky Casino was blown to bits.
All they have left is a few changes of clothes that they'd scrounged up with the remaining
change they hadn't spent on hotels and food. Nothing too fancy.

Frankly, Sigma's lucky to have escaped Meursault with the clothes on their back relatively
intact, because it's their favourite outfit and nothing else fits quite right. Even if it does make
the other detectives stare at their glittery coat and slim wedge heels like they dress any
weirder than anyone else there. That Lucy girl definitely beats Sigma in terms of interestingly
put together outfits, for sure.

Dazai clears his throat suddenly, startling Sigma from their thoughts. "Well, are you gonna
stand there and stare all day, or are you gonna come inside?"

Sigma just nods and slips past Dazai into the man's home.

It's… not what he expected. Not that he'd been sure what to expect at all. The walls are all a
pale cream colour that Sigma assumes came with the place, and there is barely any form of
decoration anywhere around the living room he's walked into. There's a large TV atop a black
stand where a game station and a stack of CDs and DVDs are laid, and there's a plush red
couch and coffee table where an open bottle of sake sits next to a plate of food that Sigma
supposes the man had just been eating. The window to the outside is blocked off with an
azure curtain, underneath which is a portable heater and an airer draped with clothes. Apart
from this, there aren't many signs of life. It's rather dismal, Sigma thinks, nothing like his
own room in the Sky Casino that had been the peak of colourful decoration and luxury. Not
that something like that can be expected here, he supposes.

Sigma slips off their heels and places them on the shoe rack in the hall before striding further
into the living room. They catch a glimpse of the kitchen, looking just as dismal as the main
room does. They wrinkle their nose before they can stop themself, displeased.

They jump when Dazai appears beside them, giggling mischievously. "Is my living situation
not up to your standards?" he snickers, elbowing Sigma in their side. They yelp, suppressing
the long-dormant instinct to shrink back with their arms over their eyes in self defense. Sigma
knows by now that Dazai means no real harm. It still doesn't help that he's so touchy and
Sigma is not used to being graced with kind hands after years of being surrounded with
people that only wished them harm.
"It's fine," Sigma murmurs politely, bobbing their head. They crane their neck, looking down
another hall at the end of which they can see a few closed doors. "Uh, so in which room will I
be staying?"

"Jumping straight into it, I see," Dazai says, amusement dripping from his voice. He takes a
few languid steps, clearly in no rush to do much more than wander. "No time for dilly-
dallying for Sigma… Anyway, I'll give you a tour. These apartments are very small, so it'll be
quick."

He stretches his arms out, beaming. "This is the living room," he says proudly.

Then he turns on heel and walks around into the kitchen without another word. Sigma blinks.
Well, he supposes that it's self explanatory enough.

Sigma trails after him. The kitchen is small, with a standard fridge and oven, a few other
appliances scattered across the stained countertops. Dazai stands amidst it all with his hands
on his hips. "This is the kitchen," he tells him.

There's a slight pause. "Cozy," Sigma says awkwardly, nodding. He doesn't like the way
Dazai's looking at him, expectant. Like he wants something more. What is he supposed to
say? It's just a kitchen. A very small, very sad looking kitchen.

Dazai doesn't even acknowledge Sigma's response before gliding by and back down the hall.
Slightly frustrated, Sigma follows again, his stride much less certain than the other man's.
Already he's wishing that he'd put more effort into begging Kunikida to let him stay with him
instead. He's sure the man would have cracked at least a little if he'd gotten on his knees and
made himself cry.

"The bathroom," Dazai shows off with a gesture. They're at the end of the hall now, and the
man is showing him the room behind him, a very ordinary looking bathroom with a frosted
window above the sink and a showerhead inside the bath. Dazai then shuts the door and
opens the one to the left of him. "Closet. If you ever need the vacuum cleaner, it's in here,
along with some of Atsushi's Christmas decorations and some old rugs that I need to get
washed at some point."

Sigma nods for what feels like the hundredth time in the past few minutes. He makes a noise
when Dazai tries to get past him again, and surprises himself by holding out an arm to stop
him from passing. "What's that room on your right there?" he demands, mildly furious at the
way he feels his face flush. Dazai looks just as stunned by Sigma's boldness, a small grin
creeping across his face. It makes Sigma want to hit him, in all honesty.

"My bedroom," Dazai says simply. He smirks, and leans in over Sigma's still outstretched
arm until his face is only a few inches away from his. Dazai smells very strongly like
coconut. He must have just showered. "Why, did you want to see in there too?"

Sigma huffs and pushes away, crossing his arms firmly across his chest. "Not particularly. I
just wanted to know what mystery could be lying behind a door you suspiciously weren't
showing me. Now I don't care much at all."
Dazai looks undeterred, eyes still bright as he studies every inch of Sigma's face. It makes
them feel as though they're under a microscope. They don't like it. So they growl under their
breath and whip around to storm back down the hall, already humiliated with the situation
and determined not to be made fun of. Maybe they'll visit Kunikida and beg him anyway, just
for a chance to be anywhere but here.

Then they stop in the living room, remembering that this is, in fact, not their house and they
don't have anywhere else to go. They spare a glance over their shoulder. Dazai hasn't moved,
still standing in the same position as before, looking so smug it makes Sigma furious.

"What?" they mutter, staring at the covered window instead.

"Nothing at all," Dazai sing-songs, seemingly far too pleased with himself as he saunters over
to where Sigma is standing. They're relieved when he stops a couple feet away, not getting
too close like he usually is. "That concludes the tour. You're welcome to use my PlayStation
if you want, and there's some leftovers in the -"

"Hang on," Sigma interrupts, a bad feeling that he's recently discovered he associates more
with Dazai than anything else descending over him. "Where's my room? You didn't show me
my room."

"Ahhh," Dazai hums, smiling gently and looking relaxed as ever. "This is your room."

Sigma turns around and immediately groans in horror. Dazai is gesturing further into the
living room where they're already standing.

"These aren't any spare rooms in our dorms," the man explains cheerfully. "These apartments
were very cheap. That's why we're getting an upgrade with the government money we
received recently! How exciting that is! Ahaha, but for now, this is where you sleep. There
are spare blankets and pillows in the closet too, I forgot to mention it. I'll get some out for
you if you want."

Sigma wants to roll up in a ball and scream. "This is all the living space I get?" he cries, his
hands flying into his hair to tug on the ends of it with anxiety. "Just one room with no doors
or walls? No privacy? What am I supposed to do? I can't sleep in a room with no walls!"

Frustratingly, Dazai looks nothing but amused with Sigma's outburst. "I'm sorry, Sigma,
really I am, but you've seen all the rooms my apartment has to offer. Even if you shared my
room, there wouldn't be a lot of personal space for either of us. This is the best we've got."

They moan softly, horrified as they feel the beginnings of tears pricking their eyes. "Is this
what the others have to deal with too?" he asks, not looking directly at Dazai in case he sees
how honestly distressed they are. "I mean, the others that are sharing rooms right now?"

Sigma sees Dazai shrug out the corner of their eye. "Atsushi and Kyouka are basically
siblings, so they just share a room and are fine about it. Ranpo and Poe have an… interesting
dynamic. If I had to take a guess, I'd say they're also sharing a room, and perhaps something
else as well. I don't know about Yosano and Lucy - I'm sure neither of them are shy about
expressing boundaries, so they'll probably get along fine." He looks right at Sigma, and they
think the man must figure out that this is actually upsetting them, because he sighs and turns
away, giving them a brief period of privacy while he goes back into the closet to rummage
around. "It sucks for us all right now, trust me. I really am sorry."

He sounds genuine, but it's Dazai, so he could be talking entirely out of his ass. Sigma rubs
his fists into his eyes, irritated at Dazai and Dostoyevsky and the Director and himself for
causing him to end up in this situation. "It's fine," he mutters, putting on a face of
professionalism just the way he used to in the casino. A casino manager must have a good
poker face. It's just been difficult to bring out at will lately when everything in his life is
crashing down around him. "I apologize for my discourteousness. I'm simply not used to -
sharing my space with others. I'll be more cordial from now on, I promise you."

Dazai faces him, silent, then bursts into peals of laughter. "Sigma, my friend," he says,
waddling over with piles of blankets and pillows stacked over his face. "There's no need for
such elaborate pleasantries. We know each other, don't we? Here, take these. Make yourself
comfortable."

He dumps the stuff at the end of the couch and steps away with a prideful grin.

Sigma isn't sure how to feel. Dazai is being nice to him, strangely nice, and he's not entirely
sure why. Does he really feel bad about having to share such a small living space with him?
Is he trying to make up for everything that happened in Meursault? Does he - could Dazai
possibly know about Sigma's feelings, the ones he's been pushing away since they were
trapped in the elevator what feels like a million years ago?

The thought makes him run cold. Sigma swallows, hard, and bobs his head, forcing a smile
onto his face. "I will do so," he says, and to demonstrate, he sits down on the opposite end of
the couch to all the blankets with his hands folded in his lap. "Thank you for your hospitality.
Um. I'll get settled in, if that's ok with you."

"Great!" Dazai replies, far too enthusiastically for the situation. He claps, twirling on heel to
head into the kitchen. "I don't have much in in ways of dinner, but as I said, I've got leftovers.
One thing you're gonna learn is that you better enjoy crab or you're gonna hate living here.
How do you feel about crab mapo tofu?"

Sigma listens to Dazai ramble as he disappears from their field of vision, and then stares
around their tiny, wall-less, open living space, at the TV and the curtains and the food still
sitting on the table. Dazai's space, that they are invading. They feel very small.

If there is anything that Sigma is good at, it's adjusting quickly to the unfamiliar situations
that they're thrusted into. They'll figure it out soon enough. This is something they can
handle.

Dazai pokes his head around the corner. "If I order in, do you want pizza or sushi, and do you
have money you can pitch in? I'm rather broke right now. You know, weeks in prison without
getting paid work leave."

They can handle this.

They can't handle this.

The first few days are bad enough. Sigma eats whatever junk food Dazai orders in from
whatever greasy restaurant is cheapest because he's too poor to buy in much for himself until
he gets his first paycheck. He sleeps uncomfortably on the couch, tossing and turning and
waking up hanging half on the floor, head pounding. He shares a bathroom with Dazai and
does his best to ignore the bloodstains on the bathmat and piles of used bandages in the bin
that clearly hasn't been emptied in a while. Everything is fine. Sigma is surviving. He's not
even slightly stressed.

But living with Dazai and then having to go to work with him is something else entirely.

"Sig-ma," Dazai sings teasingly as he approaches. Sigma tenses. He can practically hear the
man's wolfish grin. "Sigmaaa, what are you up to?"

"Leave the poor man alone," Yosano sighs as she passes by on the way to Ranpo's desk, a cup
of coffee in hand. "He's still getting used to the place. At least give him a few days before
you start being annoying."

Dazai pouts. He's standing right in front of Sigma's desk, so when he turns to face Yosano,
his back is all Sigma can see. And his ass, which is half perched on their desk. Sigma tries to
look anywhere but there, pinching the bridge of their nose tiredly.

"I'm a delightful soul, actually," Dazai shoots, flipping his hair in mock offense. "Sigma
thinks so too, don't you, Sigma? You love living with me."

"So very much," Sigma deadpans. "Please get off my desk. Getting work done is rather
difficult like this."

Instead of doing as they ask, Dazai swivels around so his legs are folded on the adjacent side
of the desk, facing Sigma and entirely ignoring Yosano. He leans back on his hands in a
position that one might describe as provocative, gazing at Sigma beneath his dark lashes.
"Am I that distracting?" he practically purrs, grinning wide. "Do I make it difficult for you to
concentrate?"

"Yes," Sigma says, entirely unaffected. At least visibly, which is what matters in this
situation. Dazai doesn't need to know how that tone of voice he's using makes Sigma's
stomach flutter weirdly. It's none of his business. "It actually is hard to concentrate with a
grown man sat next to my monitor, chatting away. I know that may be surprising."

The man wilts, his dramatic pout quivering. "What a cruel thing to say to me," he says loudly,
draping the back of his hand over his forehead as he tilts further back, knocking Sigma's
monitor to the side dangerously. "What are you working on? I bet it's boring. I'm a blessing
on your eyes in comparison, I'm sure."

In the background, Yosano rolls her eyes and walks away. Sigma watches her go with
desperate eyes, but she spares him no mercy, disappearing without another glance.
"I'm still working on setting up my computer," Sigma says with a raised eyebrow. They fold
their hands under their chin, examining Dazai's face. He has a very good looking face. "Very
exciting, don't you think?"

Dazai tilts his head, a slight smirk creeping across his face. "That's the work I'm distracting
you from? To hell with that. Come with me. We're going to the Cafe Uzumaki."

He leaps off the desk, leaving Sigma's monitor to wobble on the spot. He reaches out and
straightens it with a grin. Sigma's mouth drops open, but no words come out for a moment
until - "What?" they say, stupidly. "Why?"

"Because work is boring and you're taking a break," Dazai says simply. He bounds over to his
desk and grabs his trench coat off his chair, swinging it around his wide shoulder and
snapping finger guns in a stunned Sigma's direction. "Get up! Let's go! What do we have to
wait for?"

Then he's grabbing Sigma's hands, yanking him to his feet and swinging him around, and it's
like they're back in Meursault again for a minute and Dazai's in his prison jumpsuit dancing
him around moments after meeting him. It hadn't been nearly the most startling thing Sigma
had ever seen, but there had been something about Dazai's strong grip, his warm hands and
dark eyes that had interested him a great deal. It's the same now, except they're free without
any poison in anyone's veins and Dazai is dressed like an ordinary man and not a prison
inmate. It makes something spark in Sigma's mind, a thought he'd never voice. A thought he
immediately shakes away.

"Let go of me, you ridiculous man," Sigma yelps, pushing Dazai off him as his cheeks burn.
He can practically feel Ranpo's gaze boring into him from his desk where he's been sitting
this whole time. "Fine, I'll go to the cafe with you. Will Kunikida be ok with us skipping
work, because I have a feeling he -"

"What Kunikida doesn't know won't hurt him," Dazai sings, and drags Sigma past the desks,
waving at the detectives that are still working. "Nobody snitch, ok! If Kunikida asks, Sigma's
helping me out with a new method of suicide!"

"Oh, I'm sure he'll be happy with that explanation," Sigma hears Ranpo say sarcastically even
as they're making their way out the door.

It's silent out in the hall. Dazai still has a hold of Sigma's hand, and he has a slight urge to
pull away, but doesn't. Just because he doesn't have to, is all. He lets Dazai lead him to the
staircase, or that's where he thinks he's being led, at least, because then Dazai's pressing the
button to the elevator and Sigma's heart stops. Even as he hears the machine rattle its way up
to the sixth floor, he can imagine he's trapped inside as heavy water rises, filling his lungs,
blinding him. He can imagine he's watching Dazai plummet all the way down the shaft after
using all his strength to shove Sigma out.

"Can we take the stairs?" they ask weakly, and Dazai jumps, as if he's surprised by his own
actions. He stares at his hand on the elevator button with surprise.
"Yes," he murmurs, eyebrows furrowed. "Ahaha! Sorry, I forgot we nearly died in one of
these. The stairs, then! Be warned, Sigma, I may pass out and die on the way down, so if I do,
be sure I'm buried with dignity. In fact, cremate me. In fact - Sigma, what are some
interesting ways one can dispose of the human body after one dies? Do you know any
cannibals?"

He talks all the way to the bottom floor, where there are a few patrons already sat around at
green booths in front of dark wood tables, gentle music playing over the speakers. There is an
elderly man wiping down the countertops behind the glass screens where pretty cakes and
pastries are displayed. He sees them and waves cheerily. Dazai replies in kind, grinning.

The place is cute. This isn't Sigma's first time seeing inside, but it's his first time actually
coming in and sitting at a booth that Dazai leads him to next to a window. Through it they
can see multitudes of people passing by in coloured coats now that the season's changing and
it's getting colder. Sigma watches, fascinated. Without even meaning to, he's examining the
passersby and analyzing the ones he can see the clearest, picking out traits like he would at
the casino. Then he shakes himself off. It's unnecessary to act like this now, although he
supposes, now that he thinks about it, his skills could definitely be useful for detective work.

If he ever gets to do detective work. If the agency gets back on its feet before Dostoyevsky is
captured and Sigma leaves again.

"Do you want a cup of tea?" Dazai asks, rousing him from his thoughts. He's still standing,
and something about his smile is - weirdly gentle. It makes Sigma's face heat up against his
will, and he stiffens slightly. Dazai continues. "I noticed you started buying in a bunch of it.
I've never been much of a tea or a coffee person, so it surprised me."

Sigma laughs softly, bringing a hand to the back of his neck. "I'd like a tea, yes. What kinds
do they have here? Jasmine? Chamomile? I like matcha tea too, especially with a little cream.
How do they brew their tea here? Western style, on a hob - do they use tea bags or tea
leaves?"

Dazai quirks his eyebrows, looking like he's holding back a laugh. "I'll figure it out," he tells
them. "Do you want anything to eat, too? The food here is good."

"Carrot cake," Sigma says without even thinking about it.

"At least your snack order is simple," Dazai sighs, and turns away.

Sigma clears his throat. "Wait. Are you paying? I thought you were broke."

Dazai smirks over his shoulder. "I have a secret savings account that I only break into for
people that really interest me," he says, and bounces over to the counter to give their order
before Sigma can protest.

Unbelievable. Sigma huffs and leans back into his seat, going back to people watching. He
gets so engrossed in it while he waits for Dazai to come back that he startles when his
shoulder is tapped.
"Boo," Dazai says, and sets down a tray in front of them. There are two white mugs with
Cafe Uzumaki's logo on them, one with something covered in whipped cream, the other clear
and yellowish. There is one plate, on which there is a sweet looking slice of carrot cake.

"Oh-h," Sigma hums, mouth watering as Dazai sits across from them. "This cake looks
lovely. What kind of tea is this? I didn't end up giving you an idea of what I wanted."

"Guess," Dazai says mischievously, and takes his own mug in hand to sip from. It leaves a
white mustache on his top lip that he licks away without breaking eye contact. Sigma nearly
rolls his eyes at that, but instead picks up his drink to take a smell of it. His eyes flutter shut,
and he smiles.

"Peppermint," he says, and then takes a drink to confirm it. Yep. Peppermint. "It's sweet."

He looks up to meet Dazai's cool expression and is suddenly met with the urge to tease the
man back, just a little. "Did you look into my psyche to guess my favourite tea?" he wonders
with a grin. "It surely couldn't have been the fact that I drink it every night before I sleep. You
must be using some tricks to get in my brain."

Dazai cackles, throwing his head back. His jawline is really defined, Sigma notes. "I'm
always using tricks," the man says with a smirk. "Maybe I'm going to condition you into
thinking of me every time you drink peppermint tea."

Sigma does roll his eyes at this. They both drink at once, and Sigma realizes something.
"Hey, why didn't you get something to eat? You were complaining about how you were
starving all morning."

Dazai suddenly seems intent on not looking at him straight on. "The hot chocolate here is so
filling, I wouldn't be able to eat a thing after I drank it. Try the carrot cake. I know you didn't
eat before you left the house this morning."

It's true, but Sigma hadn't thought Dazai would point it out. "I forgot," he murmurs, and he
really had. He picks up the cake in his free hand and nibbles it. "Ooh, this is nice. Thank you,
Dazai, I'll pay you back once I get paid."

"No need," Dazai replies, shaking his head. "Anything for a fellow detective."

Sigma frowns, because he's fairly sure it was just yesterday that Kunikida was begging Dazai
to "get his ass off the couch and go to the shops to get him new ink for the printer" and Dazai
was refusing to move at all, and he's not sure what the difference between that incident and
this one is. But he doesn't think about it too deeply. Instead he finishes his food and his tea
while Dazai chats about some event from a few years ago where himself and Kunikida had
gone up against some terrorist who tried to frame Dazai for being a bomber, and he watches
people out the window whenever he's not staring at Dazai, and it's nice. It's something Sigma
hasn't felt in a while, not since he'd been running the Sky Casino, at the very least. It feels
almost like -

They don't allow themself to think the word belonging because as soon as Dostoyevsky is
caught, Sigma is running. They don't know where they'll go, still. Maybe now that their name
has been cleared and their crimes in relation to the Decay erased, the governmental Unusual
Powers department will help relocate them. Put them in some form of witness protection.
Maybe they'll move to Canada, or the United Kingdom, and maybe they'll find another casino
to do business in. Maybe they'll find something else that's just as good. The point is that
Sigma will not allow themself to get attached to the agency. They have their entire life to live,
and they will not spend it wasting away at a desk job.

"You know," Dazai says, out of the blue. "You are interesting, Sigma. We should play chess
sometime. It's been a while since I've played against someone who I believe could be as good
as me."

Sigma snorts. "You're humble, aren't you?"

Dazai giggles, shaking his head slightly to get his hair out of his eyes. It's long and thick and
makes him look very pretty. "I was in the Port Mafia for years amongst some of the greatest,
most powerful ability users in Yokohama and only one man ever beat me," he says. His smile
twitches, and he turns to stare out the window at the shops across the street the same way
Sigma has been the entire conversation. "And he was cheating. Once I figured him out, he
never beat me again."

Sigma's not sure what to say to that. There is something on Dazai's face that suggests he's
looking somewhere very far away, past the people and the shops, at something he can't see.

"Well," Sigma says, tapping his nails against the side of his mug to get Dazai's attention
again. "I'll have you know that I'm very good at chess. Maybe you'll finally find someone
who can best you fair and square."

Dazai makes eye contact with him, pale orange meeting dark brown, and his smile looks real.

"I think," he says, "I'd love to see you try."

"Dazai," Kunikida snaps. "Hey. Hey."

Sigma glances up with a slight twinge of intrigue.

Kunikida growls, frustrated. "Dazai," he huffs, and reaches over the monitor on Dazai's desk
to smack his sleeping figure over the head with his notebook. Sigma watches from his own
desk - also unfortunately next to Dazai's, because he was the last one to choose a desk and it
appeared that, shockingly, no one but Atsushi had wanted a seat beside him - as Dazai groans
in his sleep, twitching slightly. Kunikida squeezes his eyes shut, lips moving silently as he
counts backwards from ten. "Dazai, I would ordinarily let you off with this but by God, we
are not currently in a state where you can be sleeping during your paid working hours!"

He hits Dazai again, and this time he stirs properly, face scrunched in distress. Whatever he's
dreaming about, it's clearly not pleasant. Sigma turns back to his computer screen and wills
himself not to care about whatever Dazai's up to.
Sigma has been tasked with digitizing all the old agency files that hadn't been destroyed
when the police had raided their headquarters all that time ago. "It's honestly the easiest job
you could be doing," Atsushi tells him as he's explaining where to upload the various files
that apparently need to be sorted in a very meticulous manner. "I had to do this as well when I
first joined. It's just, you know, getting you used to the office, to the computers, to - us. We're,
uh. We're probably a little different than the last group of people you worked with."

Yes, the Armed Detective Agency is very different from the Decay. There isn't a single
person in this group that he can relate to even one of his old coworkers. Even Yosano, the
agency doctor, doesn't rival Dostoyevsky in terms of sadism, and Kenji doesn't compare to
Fukuchi's strength, and no one on Earth, Sigma thinks, could compare to Gogol's wicked
insanity.

Well, regardless of how different his old job was to his new one, he's getting through it. The
job Atsushi gave him has been easy. Sigma's even only had to speak to one of his new
coworkers once since then, when he had to ask Kunikida about a naming system in the files
that Atsushi had neglected to explain. It's been quiet. It's been good.

And the only reason it's been quiet is because Dazai has been asleep. Sigma could have
woken him up an hour ago, but neglected to mention it to Kunikida because he'd been
enjoying the peace. Now the man is getting him up. Sigma's period of productivity is about to
end.

"You want me to pour water on his head, Kunikida?" Ranpo calls from across the room. He's
sitting with his feet up on his desk, some papers in his lap that could be blank for all the work
he's getting done. However, Sigma gets the feeling this is usual for him. Ranpo catches them
looking and flashes them a cheeky grin and a wink that has them flushing.

"No thank you, Ranpo," Kunikida says wearily. He shakes Dazai's shoulders roughly. "Dazai.
Dazai. Sigma, do you know if he slept last night?"

Sigma startles at the unexpected sound of his name. "Why would I know that?" he says
uncertainly, sitting bolt upright in his seat. Everyone in the room has directed their attention
in their direction now. Poe at the desk next to Ranpo's, Lucy and Kyouka hovering over
Atsushi at his computer, and Kenji and Yosano, who are just now walking out of the
infirmary. He supposes they have nothing better to do, he thinks slightly bitterly. For all the
damage their agency has recently been caused that they should be sorting out, the detectives
around here seem to spend a lot of time lazing around and chatting.

"You room with him," Kunikida says, like it's obvious. On the desk under him, Dazai
twitches in his sleep.

"Yes," Sigma agrees, a little annoyed at the way that everyone is still looking at him. "But I
don't sleep with him."

He blinks with wide eyes as he quickly registers the double meaning to that sentence. Across
the room, Ranpo and Yosano laugh.

Kunikida sighs and goes back to shaking Dazai, loudly repeating his name again and again.
"Is he dead?" Yosano asks with great interest. She wanders over, bumping against Kunikida's
side. "If he's dead, I want his organs."

"He doesn't look dead," Kenji pipes up. He waves at Sigma as he stands directly in front of
his desk. The space around Dazai's is getting crowded. "He's just sleeping. And he probably
needs it, too."

Everyone but Kunikida disperses, finally getting back to their own business. The blonde
detective looks annoyed, but eventually groans and turns to Sigma. "Make sure he sleeps
tonight, will you?"

He leaves the room before Sigma can even say that whether Dazai sleeps or not isn't his
business nor his problem.

The man does get up soon enough, about half an hour later. Sigma catches the movement and
turns to find him sitting up with his face resting in his palms. He's not moving, just breathing
in and out, eyes shut.

Sigma clears his throat, wondering why me in the back of his mind, and leans over to tap
Dazai's desk.

"Are you alright?" he asks quietly when the man glances up curiously.

One thing Sigma and Dazai have agreed on without words since they started living together
is that neither of them bothers the other about their living habits outside of what's necessary.
If Dazai's seen Sigma looking exhausted as he makes his morning tea, or heard him cry out in
his sleep, he doesn't say a thing. And if Sigma finds bloody bandages in the bathroom bin and
mood stabilizers with a fake name accidentally left out on the sink, he doesn't say anything
either. They keep their business to themselves. It's something Sigma is immensely grateful
for.

Now he's breaking those boundaries, and Dazai looks intrigued. The bottom half of his face is
still hidden by his hands, but his chocolate brown eyes are wide open and fixed on Sigma in a
way that makes him mildly uncomfortable. But he doesn't look away.

"Did Kunikida tell you to ask?" Dazai wonders, a hint of amusement in his eyes. He sits up,
leaning back against his chair with his arm slung over it. Sigma swallows, trying not to look
at the man's broad shoulders and the expanse of muscle visible under his sleeves.

"No," Sigma mutters, staring at Dazai's fingers on the desk. "I just wanted to make sure you
were ok. No one could wake you up, and I worried."

Dazai's expression flickers before smoothing out again, but Sigma saw the brief look of
shock. "Ah," Dazai says, and laughs in a manner that sounds slightly strained to Sigma's
trained ear. "I have insomnia. When the opportunity for sleep strikes, I take it. Did Kunikida
hit me with his book? That would explain this headache I've woken up with, I think."

"He did," Sigma confirms. "Sorry."

The detective just hums, still looking very sleepy. His eyes keep fluttering closed.

"Maybe you should go home," Sigma suggests, unsure of himself in this situation. "You look
awful."

"Thank you," Dazai mumbles. "I appreciate the concern, but I'll be fine. I'll sleep well
tonight."

He shakes himself awake and grins in Sigma's direction, shooting finger guns at him. Sigma
frowns deeper. After a moment Dazai turns himself back in the direction of his computer,
which has darkened with inactivity. Sigma does the same with his own, and they work in
silence, although Sigma is fairly certain that Dazai has switched his internet off and is
playing that game with the dinosaur that jumps over obstacles. Neither of them talk
regardless.

When they get home that night, walking home together as usual, Dazai goes straight into his
room and doesn't come out, which isn't unusual, but Sigma's fairly certain he doesn't have
any food in there and can't remember the last time they saw him eat. For a few long moments,
Sigma lingers in front of Dazai's door and considers knocking and asking if he wants
something from the shops. However, the idea of rejection is enough to deter them completely,
so they don't. They make dinner for one and eat it on the couch in front of the TV.

Not for the first time since Sigma's met Dazai, he worries about his state of mind. He used to
just think the man was insane and suicidal, but now he thinks he understands him a little
better. A little. Living with someone does give you an insight into their mind, even if it's not
much of anything. And Sigma's not sure how he feels about what he sees.

"So how have you been fitting in, then?"

Sigma jumps, whipping around from where he'd been using the ADA kitchen to make
himself some tea. He doesn't know who he expects to see - the high pitched, feminine tone
clearly doesn't belong to Dostoyevsky or any of the men that used to keep Sigma on a leash,
yet there's still that animalistic instinct at the back of his mind. However, it's just Lucy
standing in the doorway, smiling politely. She's dressed in a dark red dress and tall laced
shoes that reach her knees, ring adorned fingers wrapped around each other. Sigma swallows
and smooths his expression, the facade of calm he taught himself back in the casino settling
over him again.

Lucy wanders in, slowly, as if she recognizes the startled beast in Sigma and understands how
to soothe it in kind. "I used to be in an organization that worked against the Armed Detective
Agency as well," she tells them sweetly. She reaches into a cupboard and pull out a yellow
and purple tie-dye mug that they assume belongs to her. "I understand how difficult the
adjustment period is. I mean, it was different for me because I stayed in Yokohama after the
Guild was destroyed for a while before I joined the agency. I've spent time around these
people without having to work for them. But you? You've been thrown straight into it."

Lucy saunters over to the teapot Sigma had just been using and, after being given a small nod
in reassurance, takes it in hand and goes to the sink to rinse it and fill it up for herself. She
hums as she does so, soft and light.

"I can't even imagine it," she says. She doesn't look at Sigma as she sets about making her
own tea. Sigma sips their own, unsure of themself.

"It certainly hasn't been easy," they murmur, trying for a laugh to lighten the situation. "It's
taken time to figure it all out."

The girl nods, lips still turned up at the corners. "It sticks with you, doesn't it?" she says. She
turns on the hob and sits the pot on it, still humming between speech. "The… fucked up shit
they teach you. I mean, I don't know what the Decay of Angels was like on the inside. But I
don't believe you'd be here if you were evil. That's why I know that you must have spent
some time being manipulated, or being made to do awful things you didn't want to, or being
bribed, blackmailed with something you'd do anything in the world to avoid losing. I
understand that. Poe does too, although on a lesser level than I do. He's never… quite known
the same suffering I have."

"Mhm," Sigma agrees, just listening to her speak. He'd planned to spend his break alone, but
he thinks this is nicer. He hasn't had much time to get to know Lucy or Poe. The two of them
had been very close to the agency even before they'd joined, and they've mostly stuck to their
respective friends of Atsushi, Kyouka, Ranpo and each other. Sigma was a complete stranger
to all of them. He's the only one who'd been entirely alone when the Director had delivered
the news that he had passed the entrance exam.

Nearly alone. He knew Dazai. Barely.

"I feel like maybe the two of us are actually very alike," Lucy is saying. "I dunno why. I just
get the vibes. How old are you again, Sigma?"

Sigma coughs into their sleeve, suddenly anxious. "I don't know. Ah, I can only remember
the last three years of my life. If I had to guess, I'd imagine I'm in my early twenties. Twenty
two or three, I think."

Lucy nods. "And if you don't mind me asking, what pronouns do you use again? Dazai
sometimes uses they and them for you and I wanted to make sure."

Sigma never actually officially told Dazai he was nonbinary, or at least he doesn't remember
doing so, but somehow he knew what pronouns to use. It's possible that Sigma had referred to
himself in the third person at one point and Dazai had understood. He hasn't questioned it as
of yet.

"They-them and he-him, either or," they say, feeling a little silly. They clutch their mug in
both hands, letting it warm their skin. "If choosing just one makes it easier, I don't mind."

"Ok," Lucy says cheerily. The teapot whistles, and they take it off the hob and pour it into
their mug. "I'll try and use both. Remind me if I forget and it bothers you. My memory is a
little muddled some days."
Sigma smiles, feeling a little lighter than he did before. "Thank you for being so considerate.
I haven't actually mentioned it to any of the others because it feels rather strange."

"You should," Lucy tells him, a knowing look in her eye. "They're very progressive here. I
mean, I'm openly bisexual and no one's ever been weird about it. So is Atsushi. I mean,
maybe it's because we're dating, but that's still -"

Sigma nearly spits out his drink. As it is, he practically hacks up his lungs into his mug,
gripping the glass tightly so he doesn't drop it with the force of his coughs. Suddenly Lucy is
at his side, pounding her fist against his back, looking torn between amusement and concern.
"You good?" she asks, giggling a little. "If I killed you, I think Dazai would be very upset
with me."

He wants to ask why she thinks Dazai specifically would care about him, but has another
question he's desperate to ask instead. "You and Atsushi?" he manages, wiping himself off
with the handkerchief from his shirt pocket. "I wasn't - very sorry for my reaction, I wasn't
aware."

Lucy laughs, a lovely sound, pink in the face and sparkling in the eyes. "Yes, we haven't
officially mentioned it to anyone yet," she says, stepping away from Sigma back to her mug,
hands immediately finding their way to the spoon to continue stirring. "We both figured it
would take maybe a day for everyone except Kunikida to figure it out. So far Ranpo knows,
Kyouka knows and we're certain Dazai knows, although neither of us have dared to ask him
yet."

Sigma clears their throat, a little embarrassed by their ridiculous reaction. "How long have
you been together?" they ask politely, as if they weren't choking just a moment ago.

She shrugs. "A couple days. We've both been… I don't know, dancing around each other for a
while, I suppose. But there were a few occasions during the whole… the whole thing where I
was terrified something would happen and I'd never see him again. Made me realize how
little time people can have if they're not careful… So one thing led to another, and now we're
here."

Sigma hums, biting the inside of his lip. How unusual. Romance is something they've never
experienced, so hearing about it from someone who's just formed that kind of relationship
with another is interesting. They make a few mental notes in his mind. "That's very sweet,"
they say, smiling over the lip of their mug. "It sounds as though you really love each other."

Lucy chuckles into her drink, sighing out her nose. Then she glances up sharply, suddenly
more focused than before. "What about you and Dazai?" she asks, tone innocent and
unassuming.

This time Sigma really does spit out his drink, all down his lovely white jacket.

"Holy shit," Lucy cackles, darting to the drawers to grab a towel and toss it to a spluttering
Sigma, who barely catches it. "I didn't think you'd have such a violent reaction to such an
ordinary question."
"That was not an ordinary question and I believe you know it," Sigma exclaims, scrubbing
desperately at their clothes. It will need a delicate wash, but if this outfit survived Meursault,
it can surely survive a little tea stain.

Lucy shrugs, looking at him with a little mischief in her stance. "Maybe not," she sings. "So
do you guys have somethin' going on? Ranpo and Poe are taking bets."

Ranpo and Poe are ones to talk, Sigma thinks, but won't voice such a thought aloud because
he will not stoop so low as to do so, unlike some people. "I promise you I hold no romantic
affection for Dazai," he tells Lucy firmly. "I don't even believe I can feel such an emotion.
Our relationship is strictly professional, now that we are work colleagues."

The girl rolls her eyes. "Fine, if you insist," she sighs. She doesn't sound entirely convinced.
That isn't Sigma's problem, however. "We just thought you'd look cute together. And Dazai
apparently doesn't usually flirt with guys or - masc-presenting people, at least. So you're
special in that regard."

His first thought is: he's been actually flirting with me? His second thought is: he isn't like
that with everyone?

Come to think of it, he's never seen Dazai sit on Kunikida's desk and arch his back while
asking how distracting he's being, but he's also very certain that Kunikida would judo flip the
man before he even had the chance to open his mouth if he so much as came near his
meticulously sorted piles of documents, so that doesn't really mean anything.

"Well," Sigma murmurs. "I hold no interest."

Lucy lets him leave it at that.

Here is the truth.

Sigma lied.

Sigma lied when he told Lucy he wasn't sure he could experience romantic attraction,
because he knows he can. Or, at the very least, he can experience desire. He's not sure what to
call his feelings yet. They're very new, and the conditions under which they sprouted were
entirely unusual, so he has no idea how to deal with them yet.

Here is the truth.

Sigma and Dazai drowned together in Meursault. Or they nearly did. Due to both of their
quick thinking, although mostly Dazai's, they had gotten out of the situation alive.

Here is the truth. Sigma hadn't taken a large enough breath before the water in the elevator
overtook them, and their lungs reached their capacity quicker. However, if they stuck their
head above the water, they would die almost instantly due to the fire having burned out all the
oxygen. Dazai had recognized this and acted accordingly. Sigma was left with more air in
their lungs, or at least technically, because they felt as though it had all been knocked out of
them.

The truth is that Dazai giving Sigma mouth to mouth in order to transfer him air had been
entirely a survival mechanism. Without it, Sigma wouldn't be standing here alive as he is.
He's grateful for that. At the same time, the truth is that no one had ever come that close to
Sigma before without meaning him harm.

Certainly nobody had ever come close enough to press their lips to his the way Dazai had.

It was a survival mechanism and it worked. Neither of them mentioned it afterwards because
neither of them had to. It wasn't a kiss like in the movies Sigma sometimes watched on his
laptop when he felt like he needed to understand what it was like to feel such a thing as love.
Dazai has certainly not thought of it again since.

Sigma has thought about it every day since he was safe enough to have the space in his mind
for it to occupy. That is why he tried persuading Kunikida into rooming him with any other
person but Dazai. That is why he wants absolutely nothing to do with the man if it's possible.

These feelings are artificial. They would not be experiencing them if not for how close Dazai
had come to them, if not for the desperate way he'd pressed their mouths together. If not for
the fact that Dazai is the first person Sigma has ever known that hasn't tried to manipulate or
hurt them. Sigma has just never experienced anything like it - that is why they're so drawn to
Dazai, so drawn to the idea of experiencing it again. They will get over it.

Dazai won't ever need to know.

Dazai catches their eye over his monitor when they return from the break room, having
wearily scrubbed at their clothes until their wrists were sore to try and hide the stains until
they can get to the apartment that night. "What happened to you?" he asks, curiosity lining
his tone.

"Spilled," Sigma mutters as he slides back into his desk chair.

Ranpo cackles from his place across the room.

Because of the stains that Sigma can't immediately wash out and essentially has to sit in for
the rest of the day until he can leave, he has to put his clothes through an extra long wash that
night with his more expensive washing powder that he splurges on. Unfortunately, this ends
up being far too much for Dazai's washing machine to handle, so before Sigma goes to bed at
ten pm like he always does these days, he is led to the discovery that the stupid thing had
overflowed.

He is forced to knock on Dazai's door.

"Your washing machine is bust," they say when the man himself pops his head around his
door. He doesn't open it wide enough that Sigma can see much inside, but doesn't hold it
closed enough that Sigma might think he has something to hide. Clever. "I don't know what
happened."

Dazai just sighs, as if this is an ordinary occurrence. "Oh, dear," he drawls, and shuts the door
behind him with a click as he leaves to wander into the bathroom and inspect. Sure enough,
his floor is soaked, a thin layer of water covering the blue tile nicely. "This certainly isn't
idea, not at alll."

He crouches down to examine the machine. Sigma dithers in the doorway, wringing his hands
with worry. There is still the smallest part of him that fears Dazai whipping around and
screaming at him for being so useless and breaking his things, but of course he won't, so
eventually he relaxes enough to ask Dazai the question that's also bothering him. "Are my
clothes ok?"

This seems to make Dazai laugh, but he plunges his arms into the machine regardless and
comes out with a sopping wet pile of white and purple that makes a sickening plop when the
man drops it onto the wet floor. "Beyond saving," he says gravely. "You'll never be able to
wear them again."

"Be serious," Sigma chides, anxiety stirring in their chest.

"No fun," Dazai sighs. He crosses his arms across his chest, leaning them against his knees.
"Your clothes are absolutely fine, just wet and soapy. The cycle didn't get to finish before the
machine bust, it seems. You'll have to go to a dry cleaners instead."

Sigma groans and drops his face into his hands in despair.

"What's wrong?" Dazai wonders aloud.

"My clothes are very delicate," Sigma whines, unable to even feel embarrassed at his childish
tone of voice. "And they're designer. They're special. I can't just take them to any old dry
cleaners! What if they got ruined, or stolen, or shrunk?"

Dazai snickers at this. "Sigma's too good for the common folk," he laments jokingly, but
regardless grabs a plastic bag out his closet and packs Sigma's clothes inside. "You'll have to
either hand wash them or wait until I can get my machine looked at. Or you can go ask
someone in one of the other dorms to use their machine, but I'm not sure what kind of
response you'd get. Besides, they won't be dry by morning."

And that is how Sigma ends up being forced into wearing his new clothes that he bought for
emergencies to work the next day.

They're nothing special. Not designer at all, of course - Sigma's taste in fashion is far less
important than food and utilities. They're essentially the first decent things he could find for
cheap at a non brand store. There's a plain white button up and a pale grey vest with a pair of
creased slacks, nothing exciting, nothing too unique. He doesn't like the material of the pants
against his legs, and the shirt sleeves are tight and uncomfortable. Nevertheless, he will make
do.
He stares at himself in the mirror and exhales deeply when he sees a much poorer person than
the one who ran the Sky Casino not that long ago. His chest looks bare with nothing but the
expanse of white fabric covering it. Sigma can't help but feel like he looks a little silly.

There was one single unnecessary accessory he bought himself that goes with it all - a cheap
metal necklace with a crimson gemstone hanging off of it. He attaches it to his neck and
drapes it over his collarbones, admiring it. It's nothing much at all. But he feels ok.

Everyone looks at them when they walk into the agency that morning.

"Dulling down for the job, Sigma?" Ranpo calls teasingly. He's stood just by the doors with
Poe and Kunikida, the former of which who waves at him and the latter who nods stiffly in
appreciation of the outfit.

"Not a chance," Sigma shoots back, and dares to do a little twirl to prove it. Their shoes were
the one thing to have survived the washing machine accident given that they aren't machine
washable, so they still have those, and feel moderately good about it. Ranpo wolf whistles at
the sight, and Kunikida smacks him around the head with his book.

"You look dashing, Sigma," Poe says bravely, and smiles at him from behind the swathes of
hair that cover his face nearly at all times. It's not the first time they've spoken, but it's the
first time one of them has initiated technically unnecessary conversation. Sigma is surprised.
They had thought that due to Poe's and their own social awkwardness, they would work for
God knows how long without saying a word to one another.

"Thank you," they reply shyly, and dart into the room. They receive a few other compliments
on the change, one from Yosano, one from Kenji and one from Naomi, stopping by early to
drop something off. It makes them feel good, feel welcomed, even if the outfit still definitely
sucks.

Kunikida wanders over when they're eventually alone. "Where's Dazai?" he asks, sounding
mildly concerned. "He usually arrives with you."

Sigma rolls his eyes. "He told me he'd be late. He didn't say why. Well, he did actually give
me a list of excuses that I could give you, but I feel they're rather insulting."

The blonde crosses his arms firmly, face tight with annoyance. "Hit me with one," he
demands.

Everyone in the room is looking at Kunikida now, waiting to judge his reaction. Sigma tries
to bite back the resulting grin and from his shirt pocket produces the list he'd hastily scribbled
down as Dazai shouted it out through the bathroom door. He unfolds it with flair and holds it
up so only he can see, enjoying the theatrics.

"Reason number one," he says, loud enough that everyone can hear. "Dazai was kidnapped
by Chuuya Nakahara of the Port Mafia and may be being held at knifepoint. He will do his
best to escape and come into work in due time."
Everyone laughs at this. Kunikida sighs, still red in the face with anger but seemingly more
exasperated now than anything. "I don't know that I need to hear any more," he mutters,
looking thoroughly defeated.

"Reason number two," Sigma continues, regardless of Kunikida's words. They did not write
all these down for nothing. "Dazai has been accused of shoplifting and the cops are holding
him until Doppo Kunikida of the Armed Detective Agency brings a fifty thousand yen bail to
Yokohama Station."

"Are these all in Dazai's own words?" Kunikida asks.

"Yes," Sigma says seriously against the giggles of the other detectives. "Reason number three
-"

"I'm done!" Kunikida suddenly cries. He throws up his hands, gesturing away from everyone
in the room. "Back to work, you gossipy heathens! How Dazai continues to cause trouble
when he's not even here, I don't understand…"

Then he looks back at Sigma with narrowed, storm grey eyes. Paired with his dark
expression, it looks as though lightning could flash across them at any second. "Don't let that
man corrupt you," he hisses, pointing right at Sigma. "You're a good worker. Stay that way."

A week or so ago, this outburst would have shook Sigma to his core and he's sure he would
have hyperventilated in the bathroom for twenty minutes. Now, he knows Kunikida is very
much just like that, especially when Dazai is concerned. Knowing that man as well as he
does, Sigma can't blame him.

Dazai bursts in half an hour later.

"You!" Kunikida shouts. He leaps up from his desk, stabbing his finger towards the man
accusingly. "What was with those list of excuses you gave Sigma to read off to me? Do you
think our work is a game?"

To Sigma's surprise, Dazai just groans and clutches his head. "Ahh, Kunikida, any other day I
would love to spend ten minutes going back and forth shouting and arguing with you, but I
have the most terrible hangover," he laments. He does look pale and clammy, and there are
dark circles under his eyes. "If you would please refrain for one morning and be very kind to
me instead."

"Do you need to be looked at?" Yosano asks loudly, having perked up in her seat the moment
she saw Dazai's ragged state. The agency doctor is another person Sigma has learned just
happens to be a bit strange, with a deep interest in other people's pain. "I just received my
new surgical tools that I ordered months and months ago and all that waiting has made me
desperate to try them out."

Dazai flashes a grin at her. "No, thank you, but I appreciate your concern as always, Doctor!"

Kunikida huffs, looking entirely annoyed. "You are the scum of the earth, Dazai Osamu," he
barks, showing his concern through hitting Dazai in the arm instead of the head. "Go sit, and
you will make up for the work you left Atsushi yesterday! Do you know what time he left
work last night? He left after I did! You should be ashamed of yourself!"

Dazai takes this scolding in stride, apologizing profusely to Atsushi and promising to take the
poor kid out to lunch later that week. When he flops down at his desk, he finds Sigma's wide
eyes fixed on him, dancing with worry. "Good morning," he says sweetly, smiling in that way
he does when he's trying to charm someone. "Very sorry if Kunikida got on at you. His
cruelty knows no bounds."

"It's fine," Sigma says, and tries to smile reassuringly. "Are you? Fine, I mean?"

They know Dazai didn't go out last night. If Dazai was to leave the house, he'd have to go
through the living room where Sigma was. But he'd barely even left his own bedroom the
whole night. That meant that Dazai had gotten drunk by himself in his room. And Sigma,
casino owner and expert in recognizing ones bad habits that he was, doesn't feel right about
that. Dazai hadn't even asked if Sigma wanted to drink with him or anything.

Regardless, Dazai keeps up the facade, shrugging nonchalantly like it doesn't mean anything.
"I'm insulted you even ask, Sigma! As if a little hangover could get me down. No, I'm
playing it up for Kunikida. Don't tell him."

Sigma doesn't believe him. They nod and rummage through their bag, knowing they have
something - yep, there it is. He pulls out the box of pain medicine and passes it over to
Dazai's desk. "Take it," they instruct firmly. "I need to finish some things today and if you're
complaining, I won't get a thing done."

Dazai picks up the box and examines it, a curious expression crossing his face as he does so.
When he laughs, it sounds very slightly strained. "I - actually can't have this stuff. It messes
with my medication. But thanks anyway. How sweet it is that you care about me so much!"

He tosses it back over. Sigma catches it, blinking in surprise. Even if it isn't their fault for not
knowing, they feel a little bad all of a sudden.

Then Kunikida is storming back over and slamming something on Dazai's desk so hard that
Sigma jumps a foot in the air. A glass of water, and a differently coloured box of medicine to
the one they have. "There!" Kunikida shouts, already backing away. "Now I expect you to
finish your work today! No whining! No complaints!"

A goofy smile takes over Dazai's face. "Aww, Kunikida loves me," he coos, even as Kunikida
huffs on his way out the room.

Sigma watches this in silence. He's not sure how to feel. Of course, he's happy that Kunikida
knows the correct medicine to help with Dazai's headache. However. Sigma is used to
knowing everything he needs to know about everyone.

He memorizes his customers' various allergies and disorders and quirks and anxieties so they
can always be happy and content. It's his job, or it was. Even if it's not anymore - Sigma still
wants to be good at it, for whatever reason.
Sigma wants to know everything about Dazai. It's a strange urge that he doesn't quite
understand. Why would he need to know these things when Dazai isn't one of his customers?

Sometimes Sigma just doesn't understand how his own head works, he really doesn't.

Sigma receives their first paycheck at the end of the fortnight, as the Director had informed
them it would work.

"What are you gonna do with it, Siggy?" Ranpo asks around a lollypop he just shoved into
his mouth. Sigma doesn't comment on the odd nickname, focused on cleaning their desk
before they finish for the day. It's interesting that Ranpo's making conversation with them in
the first place. He usually stays away, only occasionally butting into conversations to tease
when he feels the need to be a menace, but here he is in front of Sigma's desk. He smirks
down at them, like he knows something they don't, which is probably true. Ranpo's ability is
one of the most terrifying in the agency, they think.

"Well," Sigma replies, adjusting their monitor that always seems to be askew no matter how
many times they fix it. "I need new clothes."

Ranpo snorts. "You definitely look exactly like the kinda guy that'd blow their first paycheck
on fancy clothes," he comments, popping the lolly out his mouth and pointing it at Sigma like
an accusation.

It seems the older detective has also picked up on the pronoun thing, presumably from Dazai.
Sigma doesn't mind - they actually prefer it that way. It's less awkward than having to
outright tell everyone.

They shrug, fighting a flush to their face. "What did you spend your first paycheck on, then?"
they retort, not breaking eye contact. Ranpo's eyes are very, very green. "If you say sweets,
you're not allowed to comment on anything I do with my money."

For a moment he worries he's offended the man because Ranpo is silent a little too long, gaze
lingering on Sigma with a stony expression, and then he shrugs and wraps his lips around the
lolly again, throwing his arms up behind his head. "Fair enough," he says loosely, and Sigma
practically sags with relief.

Then he feels a presence enter the room and he sighs deeply. "Hey, Dazai," Ranpo says
before Sigma can even speak up. Of course he doesn't have to turn around to know he's
there.

"Ranpo," Dazai replies easily as he saunters up behind the detective - hair freshly washed and
fluffy, Sigma notices. Probably smelling like coconut as usual. The detective nods at them
before turning back to Ranpo. "Are you bothering my charge?

"Oh, not at all," Ranpo replies. "So what are you up to? You're gonna take Sigma shopping, I
take it?"
Sigma wants to curl up and die, frankly. They watch as a puzzled look crosses Dazai's face.
It's interesting to see him with such an expression, even at the expense of their
embarrassment. "I was planning to walk home with him, but what's this about going
shopping?" he asks, clearly intrigued. He leans forward over Ranpo's shoulder, hands shoved
in his jacket pockets. "Does Sigma need me to guide him around Yokohama?"

The last part is said in a more teasing tone - Dazai knows Sigma at least has a vague idea of
how to get around the area, enough so that he hasn't had to call an agency member in tears
after making a wrong turn like he'd expected to at some point. "No," he mutters, finally
grabbing his bag and getting up from his desk, pushing in his chair. "I just got paid for the
first time and was planning on treating myself. You can just go straight to the dorm if you
want, you don't need to come with me."

Ranpo raises an eyebrow and walks away, seemingly bored with the conversation.

Dazai studies Sigma's movements, watching him sling his bag over his shoulder and
straighten his shirt, something sparking in his dark eyes. Sigma's not sure what could have
caught the man's interest, but doesn't have time to dwell.

"I'll come with," Dazai says. There's no teasing in his voice now, even though his lips are
turned up. "I'm a fashionista as well, if you can't tell. People stop me on the street and beg to
know where I get my clothes from. But I never tell them! They'd have no business left for me
if I did!"

Sigma snorts, unconvinced. "You talk big," they say boldly, tilting their head as they face
Dazai directly. The man's expression flickers, but he doesn't back down. "So do I get to know
your secret fashion suppliers, or are you gatekeeping them from me too?"

Dazai's smile widens into something that feels softer, more genuine. It's always a rush when
Sigma manages to make him look like that, he thinks.

"I suppose I could reveal one of my many secrets," Dazai says, and if Sigma didn't know any
better, they'd say he sounds almost flirtatious. "If it's for you."

Their gazes linger on each other for a little too long a moment.

Then the door suddenly bangs, and they both startle. It's Ranpo again, this time with Poe in
tow. Where they'd come from, Sigma has no idea. "You two are still here?" the detective
shouts, rolling his eyes dramatically. "Hurry it up, Kunikida told me to make sure to turn off
the lights when everyone was gone."

"We can turn off the lights," Dazai says with an amused smile.

Ranpo exhales, practically sagging. "Thank God. Come on, Ed, let's leave the losers to their
date."

Sigma furrows their eyebrows, trying to replay those words in their head. "Did he say -?"
"Ignore everything Ranpo says," Dazai says smoothly. He suddenly takes one of Sigma's
hands in his, warm, calloused skin meeting their own. "It'll make your time here far easier.
Now how about we get going, hm? All the good stores will shut soon if we don't hurry."

They inhale sharply, both at the words and the physical contact. Sigma doesn't know if they'll
ever quite get used to the unexpected gentleness that comes with life outside of the Decay.
"You were serious?" they deadpan, trying to hide the slight tremble of their voice.

"Sigma," Dazai chides, shaking his head. Black hair bounces around his face, and it looks so
soft and glossy that Sigma wants to run his hands through it. A completely normal urge, he's
sure. "I've never been so serious in my life."

The room plunges into darkness around the man's smile as he flicks off the lights at the side
of the door.

"What do you think?" Sigma asks.

It's a simple outfit. A pale pink dress that falls just to their knees, pulled up around the neck
and patterned with stitched white roses at the hem. Their arms felt too bare without anything
covering them, with all their old scars on display, so before heading to the dressing rooms
they'd darted around both the mens and the womens winter sections, looking for the perfect
jacket to wear over it. Eventually they'd found a long white one with shawl lapels and cuffed
sleeves that had sparked a joke about Sigma stealing Dazai's look, but they liked it enough
that they didn't even let it deter them.

Now they're trying them on together. It's not the first outfit they've put on since wandering
into the place that Dazai swears down is "high fashion" but Sigma is fairly certain is just
another family brand low price retailer, not that they've complained yet. They supposed the
price of the clothing doesn't always indicate the quality. So far, they've been proven correct.
Everything they've picked out so far has looked fairly decent on them and felt good against
their skin as well, which are pretty much all the met requirements they can ask for.

Dazai's been the judge of everything they've tried so far, offering his supposedly honest
opinion from his position on the uncomfortable looking coloured plastic chairs across from
the stalls. So far he's approved absolutely everything. Sigma is starting to think he's biased.

But now, he's staring. Pink lips part, just a little, as he takes in the sight of them. Sigma can't
handle the burning light in his eyes and lowers their eyes to the ground instead. The way
Dazai looks at them sometimes is too much. It's difficult to comprehend.

"Pretty," Dazai says simply.

It's the most succinct commentary he's given so far. It looks to be the most genuine one, too,
judging by the way he's staring at Sigma like he personally hung all the stars in the sky. And
it's scary because Dazai's expression, normally so perfectly masked and controlled, is
completely unguarded right now. He looks more real than Sigma's seen him since back in
Meursault, when the man hadn't been able to hide his frustrated fury at Dostoyevsky's every
unfair trick.
Sigma thinks he likes this version of Dazai.

"Thank you," he sings, and spins around on his toes to show off the whole outfit. "Does the
colour go well with my hair? I wasn't sure initially, but I think it could be flattering if paired
with the right accessories."

It could be possible that Sigma enjoys teasing Dazai, just a little, whenever he can. The
opportunity hasn't arrived often in the time he's known the detective. He needs to snatch it up
whenever he can.

The way Dazai's eyes follow his movements almost hungrily makes Sigma's heart race, blood
pumping in his ears. It's dangerous, this situation. Like disarming an unmanned explosive.
One wrong move and - yes, Sigma's been there before. This is very much the same. The only
thing is is that he's not sure which one of them is the bomb.

"I think you could look good in anything," Dazai tells them. His eyes are wide and focused, a
certain brightness hanging in them.

Sigma feels themself flush from their cheeks to their elbows. "Flirt," they accuse, and
disappears back into the stall before Dazai can say anything else.

They buy the outfit. It's adorable.

Nothing is unusual on this specific day. Sigma is in the living room as usual, cross legged on
the couch and wincing as he stretches his arms out above his head. Sleeping on the couch
hasn't been good for his body. Every morning he wakes up with cramps, nearly crying out
when his joints crack as he swivels his elbow in its socket. Despite this, he hasn't dared speak
to Dazai about potentially moving the furniture around so he has room to put a futon out or
something. Sigma doesn't want to seem ungrateful. It's fine, regardless. Dazai's couch is
further up on the list of "nicest places Sigma has slept" than one might think.

A nicely upholstered couch with pillows and blankets at his disposal is better than hot sand
making its way into his ears in the night, frankly.

So he doesn't complain, and thankfully Dazai hasn't said a word about the loss of his living
room yet, either, despite the fact that it seems exactly like the sort of thing he'd whine about
to everyone who would listen. Maybe he just knows how Sigma would interpret it, how
Sigma would overthink such a thing. Even without Dazai's complaints, he still feels odd
about all of this. Still feels like he's intruding, regardless of what the agency members tell
him.

They've just made a chilli chicken pot noodle, one of the ones Dazai bought the other day that
he swore he thought were something else and pawned off on them instead. It tastes alright.
The TV is off as it usually is, because Sigma doesn't really enjoy such things as mindless
entertainment, so the room is very quiet. A window has been thrown open, and the early
winter chill frosts the air. The sky is very blue. Sigma likes it when the weather is like this.

Maybe he'll go for a walk, or -

Nope, the front door has just flown open and Sigma is immediately cursed with the gut
feeling that Dazai isn't going to go straight to his room and not bother him. Sure enough, the
man practically flies into the living room seconds after they hear the door shut again. He
hasn't even shrugged his coat off, probably only just having enough time to shake off his
shoes. Dazai's face is alight with excitement, and in his hands he's holding a thin box that
Sigma can't examine properly with how the man is bouncing, waving the thing back and forth
in the air. "Guess what I got," he sing-songs gleefully.

He doesn't wait for an answer before doing the unexpected and charging across the room to
sit down on the couch next to Sigma, crossing his legs and leaning back against the piles of
blankets and cushions that Sigma folds and stacks neatly every morning.

"Uh," Sigma says, still blown away by the fact that this is probably the first time Dazai's
spoken to him while they're in the apartment together without it being for some work or
household related reason. They don't communicate much outside of the agency. They just
don't. The second the doors to the apartment close behind them, they always go their separate
ways and leave the other alone for the evening.

Yet here Dazai is now, breaking that unspoken rule. Sigma blinks away their confusion,
scratching the back of their neck. It's strange to have Dazai in their space, even if it's
technically his. "What is it?" they ask eventually, too curious for their own good.

Dazai flicks the box around to show them the front cover of it, allowing them to see it's
actually a plastic case for a video game. It's a pixel game, by the looks of it, with three little
characters standing in front of a tall blue flame. Sigma stares at it. The name of the game
stares back. Their eyes flit up to meet Dazai's, to take in his enormous grin and pink cheeks.
"Wow," they say after a pause, unsure. "It looks cute."

"Yes!" Dazai says loudly, before pulling the case away from Sigma's face and cracking it open
for the first time. As he does this his free hand is pressing the button on his long-unused
PlayStation to bring it to life, and understanding starts to dawn on Sigma. "It just came out
yesterday. I completely forgot. Have you ever played the original game, Sigma? Actually, I
bet you haven't, this isn't the kind of thing you'd have rigged up at a casino. I'm certain you'd
love it. You're exactly the kind of guy who'd appreciate stuff like this."

"What's the game about?" Sigma wonders aloud, unconsciously leaning slightly closer to
Dazai to glance over his shoulder at the game's case again. He's realized now that this game,
whatever this is, is going to be keeping Dazai in the living room for a while. In his space. On
his couch. "And, uh, how long is it?"

Dazai laughs, a good sound. "Don't worry," he reassures Sigma with that signature grin of his
that makes his eyes crinkle and a dimple appear in his cheek. "I won't stay here long. I was
actually planning to move the console into my room a while ago - I have a TV in there
already - I was just too lazy to. But I can do that tonight if I'll get in your way here. I just
really wanted to show you the game first - it's not as much fun playing by myself!"

Sigma opens his mouth, about to tell Dazai that this is his house and he doesn't actually need
to worry about whether anything he does annoys Sigma or not, as if it ever really could. Sure,
Dazai isn't the most ideal person to live with - he doesn't empty the bins or put food wrappers
away or close the cupboards after making something to eat and most of the time, Sigma finds
himself doing the dishes of two people and being a little peeved by it. But Sigma has tried to
do his best to be an almost invisible housemate. It's the least he can do to make it up for being
here in the first place.

But Dazai interrupts before he can speak, somehow reading these thoughts without Sigma
having to voice them. "Don't start. You're thinking so hard it's hurting my ears. You know you
don't need to apologize for just existing, right?"

The rhetorical blows the air out of Sigma's chest. When they recover, all they can do is laugh
weakly, brushing hair out of their eyes. "How do you always know what's going on in my
head?" they ask, not really wanting an answer. "Does No Longer Human have a sub-ability
where you read minds?"

Dazai looks at him and shakes his head, staring like he's marveling something incredible.
"You're easy for me to read," is what he says in reply. "It's like it's written across your face in
bold font."

Their smile dips, just a little. "Is there an expression entirely dedicated to - wanting to
apologize to your housemate for him not being able to use his own PlayStation in his own
house?"

The console signals its intent to start downloading the game by pinging loudly. Sigma doesn't
startle, for once. He's been training himself out of his fear of loud noises as of late, by setting
random alarms on his phone that go off at random points of the day. The others at the agency
thinks he's receiving a lot of calls, that he must be super popular outside of work. Sigma's just
tired of other people being able to read his trauma like a book every time he moves wrong.

Evidently, Dazai can figure them out either way. This is less surprising than they wish it was.

Dazai giggles at their last query and taps the tip of his nose. "Don't feel bad, it's not just you.
All people are just jigsaw puzzles, giving you little pieces with every word they say, with
every aspect of their being. You just happen to be a puzzle I'm deeply interested in knowing
very well."

This isn't what they were expecting. They were expecting Dazai to say they were simple, a
puzzle with less pieces than others might have, more flat and dull than anything else. Sigma
glances at Dazai and thinks that if he were a jigsaw, he'd be one of those complex, three
dimensional ones with five thousand bits to stick together that all look similar yet different.

"I'd love to figure you out too," he says honestly. "I used to pride myself on understanding
people very, very well."

"Am I difficult?" Dazai asks, sounding genuinely curious. He's leaned in closer, and Sigma
doesn't know how he didn't realize the other man's thigh is pressed up against his, sending
warm shocks through his body. Sigma swallows against the sudden inappropriate thoughts
that float to the surface of his brain.
He could kiss him now. Dazai is close enough that Sigma can actually smell him. The air is
charged with smoke and copper and coconut shampoo, filling the inside of his lungs.

They stare for just a little too long, not replying.

Then they turn away, sighing as they shuffle slightly to the right, leaving a gap between their
thighs. They feel colder with the loss of contact. "You're the most difficult man I've ever
met," Sigma tells him, watching the game download instead of facing the flash of real
disappointment that they can practically feel cross Dazai's face. "Now, if I'm gonna be forced
to sit here all evening and watch you play this game, I may as well know the plot. Tell me
about it while it boots up, and then I'll decide if you can stay here to finish it off."

They hear Dazai snort, and when they turn to look again the man's expression is perfectly
composed as usual, like nothing happened. "You'll decide if I can stay," he says mockingly, a
tone of light teasing undercutting the otherwise mean sounding words. "You spend two weeks
in a man's house and suddenly you think you own the place. It's so cruel how you've been
keeping my lovely PlayStation from me, too, I've missed it so dearly and you've been keeping
it hostage all this time…"

"Hey, I pay half the rent here now, too," Sigma replies playfully, and they are back to normal
again. As if Dazai and Sigma sat side by side amidst all the blankets and pillows that make
up his bed is normal for them in the slightest.

In the end, Dazai doesn't move his PlayStation. They spend hours on the couch, taking breaks
only when the food Dazai so lazily orders arrives and they spread cartons of ham fried rice
and king prawn curry across the table while they play the game and get invested in the lore
together. The light outside the window fades from a light blue to a dark indigo to black,
dotted with stars. Neither of them bring up the fact that they have work the following
morning. Neither of them wants to be the one to break the spell of something like domesticity
that's settled over the both of them.

It feels like such a simple affair, and yet. Sigma thinks this is more than he ever could have
asked for, when those men found him in the desert and he spent nights alone and hurting,
wishing for something better. He thinks this is more than he could have expected when he
was working the Sky Casino, alone even when surrounded by thousands of others. He thinks
there wasn't a point in his life where he could have expected the kind of companionship that
the Armed Detective Agency has presented him with.

It won't be permanent, of course. Sigma will not throw away the rest of his life working at a
desk job.

Not for anything.

Slowly, it becomes something vaguely routine.

Dazai and Sigma walk to work together and the latter watches the former banter with their
colleagues, not usually participating but laughing whenever the man says something
particularly funny that makes Kunikida's blood boil. Dazai chatters with Sigma across their
desks about anything and everything, about chess strategies and Greek myths and old agency
cases that sometimes inspire the other detectives to pipe up and pitch in their side of the story
he's telling. They wait for each other at the end of the day and walk home, side by side. The
tension between them always changes when that front door shuts, because their situation,
their friendship, is still alien to them, really. Every time they pass each other late in the
evening could be the spark for whatever it is that's blooming between them to go off. Not that
Sigma would allow anything to happen. But he worries Dazai will get the wrong idea.

One night they're cooking food together in the kitchen. Sigma is making tomato soup and
sandwiches, good for the colder season. Dazai is doing… something. At first Sigma thinks
he's making dinner for himself too, not paying much attention to the actual ingredients the
man has sitting out, but slowly realizes that's not the case. It looks as though he's making a
cake. "What's the occasion?" he asks, and the other man jumps, looking actually surprised to
be acknowledged.

"It's Kyouka's birthday tomorrow," Dazai says nonchalantly, like the information doesn't
make Sigma's eyes bulge. "I'm making a cake and it's not going well."

"It's - why does no one tell me these things!" Sigma fusses, already stressing out over what he
could do on such short notice. "Tomorrow? And no one mentioned it? Not even Atsushi? I've
been betrayed!"

Dazai smiles over at them. There's a smudge of cake batter on his cheek under his eye,
somehow. Sigma represses the urge to wipe it away with their thumb. "Kyouka doesn't make
a big deal about her birthday. The agency kind of has it as an unspoken rule that we don't do
big celebrations or surprise parties unless we know for sure it won't upset anyone, and
Kyouka doesn't enjoy this time of year very much. We all try to be accommodating of it."

That's… actually very sweet. "So why the cake?" Sigma asks, watching the older man as he
flits between the mix and his phone, which Sigma hadn't seen open to a recipe on the counter.
"You don't seem like a guy who enjoys baking."

"I usually don't," Dazai admits, brushing flour off his hands. It flutters to the floor like snow.
"But Kunikida's oven bust last night. He nearly cried about it at work this morning and I will
admit, I felt the slightest bit bad that it may have been kind of my fault for telling Kunikida
that it was ok to take a glass pan straight from the fridge to the oven if the oven hadn't been
preheated." He smiles sheepishly. "So I'm doing the cake. It's going to hopefully have a
bunny rabbit on it, if I can find the stencil I bought last week…"

He sets down the bowl and darts across the room to the very disorganized cutlery drawer,
filled to the brim with so much assorted kitchen equipment that it no longer closes properly.
Sigma's been meaning to sort it out. "When are you having dinner?" they ask, needing to ask
before Dazai changes topic yet again "You didn't eat this morning before we left for work."

"I had a snack at the cafe with Ranpo during my break," Dazai says without missing a beat.
He tries slamming the drawer shut, clearly not finding what he's looking for, and huffs when
it slides back open again. "I'll eat after the cake's done, promise."

Sigma frowns.
They want to bring up how Ranpo had wandered into the infirmary where Sigma and Yosano
had been discussing something to loudly complain about how Dazai hadn't tried his Tanoshii
Omatsuriyasan candy that he'd just made, and how he never sees Dazai eat at all, actually,
how does a man so freakishly tall get to that height if he doesn't ever eat? But they also don't
want to start something that might end in a fight, because it's not Sigma's business what
Dazai does to his own body, at the end of the day. They've seen the bloody bandages and the
pills and the empty sake bottles. They've pointedly ignored it all each time, even when
clearing out the kitchen and being faced with full, unopened packets of expired food that they
have to throw away. Not their business. If Ranpo has a problem with Dazai's eating habits
then he can bring it up. Sigma's not going to.

They do, however, listen for Dazai's room door opening later that night after the cake has
been constructed with Sigma's help and put safely in the fridge. He doesn't come out to make
dinner like he said he would, probably assuming Sigma forgot.

Sigma's not good at forgetting things. It'd be nice to have an ability that wiped unpleasant
information from his mind instead of doing the opposite, really. He hopes that as soon as
Dostoyevsky is caught and he can leave the agency, the Director's All Men will loosen its
grip on him and Sigma will be free to forget he has an ability entirely. That'd be nice.

They try and stay up, just to make sure Dazai doesn't get something to eat after Sigma sleeps
and he can't use that as an excuse at a later date, but they find themself drifting off to
thoughts of prison cells and bunny rabbit cakes and Nikolai Gogol giggling as he slaughters
them one by one.

Kyouka loves the cake.

"Thank you," she murmurs when it's presented to her. Kyouka is a very quiet girl on the best
of days, mostly coming out of her shell when she's around Atsushi, Lucy and Kenji. She'd
been the agency member that had taken the longest to warm up to Sigma, which they can't
blame her for. The things Sigma did while in the Decay didn't go away just because the
government pardoned them. They know they've hurt people.

Dazai is smiling down at her, a look of genuine fondness crossing his face like a ray of light.
He meets Sigma's eyes a moment. "Sigma was the one who made it bunny shaped and
decorated it," he admits, which makes them jolt. They'd just been about to leave, not having
expected any credit for helping, and it immediately makes them sweat. "I lost my stencil, so
they did it by hand. Rating from one to ten based on looks, Kyouka? What do you think?"

Atsushi is watching from his desk. Sigma is sure Kyouka has voiced her concerns about them
to him before, and it makes his chest feel strange, knowing that they're still not entirely
trusted. Sigma likes Atsushi. He saved their life, something they'll never be able to repay.
They wonder if Kyouka knows that.

Kyouka, now, is staring expressionless at the neatly plattered cake in her hands. She turns and
sets it gently down on her desk without responding, and Sigma is filled with the desire to turn
and run and not come back, Dostoyevsky be damned. They look anxiously at Dazai, but can't
figure out what he's thinking for the life of them.
"I love it," the girl says suddenly.

Sigma startles, eyes wide as Kyouka glances back to meet them. Usually, she looks far older
than her age due to trauma and hurt, but now she just looks like a child on her birthday,
smiling in a way that looks like a thanks in itself.

"You're very talented, Sigma," she tells him softly, and it feels like acceptance.

Across the room, Atsushi shoots him a thumbs up. When Kyouka isn't looking, Dazai smiles
knowingly, like he's just found another piece of Sigma's jigsaw and fit it perfectly into place.

They head to the cafe after work instead of going straight home. The beginning of November
brings the seasonal Christmas menus to every hot-drink-serving establishment across the
country, and Uzumaki is no exception. Lucy, who apparently used to work down there as a
barista before joining the agency, recommends him a drink she claims to have created that
she called a "Montgomery Christmas Special," but on the menu is called "Red Velvet
Wonderland." This last part she tells him with great distaste in her voice. "They're basically
stealing credit for my drink," she moans, looking terribly unhappy. "They're lucky they paid
me real well when I needed it or I'd introduce them all to Anne, I really would!"

So Sigma and Dazai both go downstairs to get their very own Montgomery Christmas
Specials and sit by the window at the same booth as always.

Sigma pays for Dazai this time. It's worth seeing the man get at least a little flustered, not
used to being offered such a thing. "Usually when Kunikida pays for me, it's against his will,"
he admits with a cheeky grin. "He always ends up paying off my tab so as not to
inconvenience the owners."

"Well, I just want to," Sigma tells him honestly. "Call it payback."

He gets Dazai a chocolate muffin too, while he's up at the counter, and a lemon one for
himself.

Dazai is on his phone when Sigma takes the tray over, eyebrows furrowed in something that
looks like distress. However, this immediately changes when he looks up and sets eyes on the
plate, oohing and ahhing at the frankly gorgeous drink of Lucy's creation. "Tried one of these
last year and it was really good," Dazai says, picking his glass off the tray and setting it in
front of him with a wince at the heat. "Lucy was a very good barista, it almost makes me miss
when she worked down here. Alas, she makes a better detective than anything else… and
how grateful we all are for that."

Then he spots the second plate and his smile dips a little. Sigma suddenly feels unsure of
himself. "I got you a muffin," he says, picking his own up off the tray and setting it up on the
table nicely. Avoiding meeting Dazai's eyes. "You said you liked chocolate."

"Thank you," Dazai says, as cheerfully as ever. "You didn't need to do that."

Sigma somehow feels like that last part was meant more seriously than the first.
To shake off his concern, he takes a swig of the hot chocolate. It really is good, he finds. The
menu had said it was red velvet and strawberry, both of which are flavours Sigma really
enjoys, so he isn't surprised at how much he likes it. He picks his phone up to text Lucy a
picture, a soft smile gracing his face as he imagines her reaction.

"Are you a taking-pictures-of-your-food kind of guy?" Dazai asks with a smirk. He's stirring
his own drink, melting the whipped cream into the chocolate, which Sigma personally feels is
a crime. "Do you have a foodie blog like Ranpo?"

Sigma raises an eyebrow at the new information. "I'm sending this to Lucy, actually, but tell
me more about this blog of Ranpo's," he says, scooting forward so he can hear better. It's
busier in here in the winter, he's been told, and most of the other booths are full of chatty
teenagers, elderly people and families with whining babies. Sigma doesn't mind the noise,
and in fact prefers it. It's familiar. "He doesn't seem like he could keep up something like that
for very long."

"Yeah, he gave up on it pretty quickly," Dazai laughs, taking a long drink of his hot
chocolate. When he lowers his glass, there's a frothy mustache left behind that he promptly
licks away as an automatic reflex. Sigma looks down at the table. "He didn't even care all that
much about whether his reviews were biased or fair or how they'd reflect on the restaurants
themselves, he just wanted the attention. And he got it. Got banned from his favourite
pizzeria because he didn't like the man that served him and dumped all of the poor guy's beef
with his ex girlfriend on the site without even thinking about it, that is. That's pretty much
when he stopped uploading. Also because the blog was actually linked to Ranpo's official
agency email and people were leaving complaints with Kunikida. He was absolutely furious."

"Oh my god," Sigma cackles, just imagining the situation. "Poor Kunikida. Between you and
Ranpo, he's got his work cut out for him."

"How true," Dazai replies mournfully. "The Director ought to give him a pay rise for even
attempting to keep either of us in check. Maybe I'll get him an early Christmas present."

Throughout the conversation, it hasn't escaped Sigma's notice that Dazai's phone has been
buzzing wildly, the screen flickering on once every couple minutes to reveal that he has a
new text notification. Dazai casually slides down the bar and turns it to silent. Sigma doesn't
comment.

"So," Dazai says, folding his hands under his chin in a way that makes him look very serious,
although they don't think he actually is. "Sigma. Honest opinions on the agency so far?"

Sigma hesitates. Such a direct question isn't good for his mind, not when he's deliberately
trying not to think about the agency and what working for them means for his future.

"It's been good," they say lamely.

Dazai raises his eyebrows, tilting his head slightly forewards so a chunk of hair falls into his
face. "That's all?" he says, tone even. Sigma doesn't like not being able to tell what he's really
thinking.
"I mean," they mumble, bringing their glass to their lips and talking into it as if to create a
barrier between themself and Dazai. "I enjoy the people. Ranpo is so witty, and Kunikida
knows how to get things done, and Yosano has been so vigilant, making sure I'm always in
peak physical health… Lucy and Atsushi have been very good friends, too, always making
sure I'm included in things and know exactly what I'm doing when it comes to work. The
Director, too, has made me feel very welcome. He actually complimented me on my shirt the
other day and I swear I nearly passed out."

He laughs humourlessly into his drink, watching the chocolate swirl around the dips and
curves of the glass. When he glances up again, Dazai is frowning, head propped up on one
hand while the other taps the table restlessly. He hasn't touched his muffin yet.

"But?" he encourages, waiting.

Sigma pauses for a long moment, debating even mentioning it.

"When Dostoyevsky and Gogol are caught," he begins, hesitantly, afraid of a bad reaction.
"I'm planning to - I mean, I - I joined the agency because I… passed the test I didn't even
know I was taking, and the government was willing to issue a full pardon, but then they both
escaped -"

There is suddenly something cold on his hand. He startles and stares at the unused spoon
being tapped against his free hand that still rests alone on the table. Dazai holds the end of it,
watching absently as the metal bounces off of Sigma's skin.

"You're going to leave the agency when the other members of the Decay are jailed," Dazai
sums up. There is nothing on his face to indicate how he feels about this. "I understand. You
don't seem suited to a desk job."

"Yes," Sigma agrees, relieved that he understands. He had worried this would be more
difficult. "I mean, like I said, you're all such wonderful people, but it's just - I haven't even
done any actual detective work since arriving here because we're still getting back on our feet
and still waiting on clients and all that other stuff. But I can't spend my life digitizing
documents and filing old cases by date and answering emails. Casino life… the Sky Casino
was something else entirely. It - of course, it didn't really exist for as long as I remember it.
Those memories were fake, implanted by the Book, just as I was, as the casino was. But, still.
You should have seen it in its prime. I would have loved to have taken you there."

Sigma blinks, horrified, as the sudden emotions from discussing the Sky Casino for the first
time in so long overwhelm him and his vision blurs with tears. He swallows and glances out
the window, embarrassed, knowing Dazai has definitely noticed. "Apologies," he chokes out.
"I - just miss it. And I know I'll never have something like that again."

Dazai is quiet as Sigma lowers his head and scrubs fiercely at his eyes until he's certain no
tears will fall. He doesn't meet the detective's gaze when he looks back up again.

"It was a job that gave me perfect purpose," Sigma murmurs. "There was never a dull
moment, never an occasion in which I was left too long with my thoughts because there was
always things happening, and I was the one who fixed everything and made people happy,
and I was good at what I did. I managed everything so meticulously that no one else could
have ever done it. I knew everything and that was all I needed. I was useful. I felt - like a real
person, for the first time in my life."

Their eyes unfocus, and for a moment the table turns into a never ending expanse of sand,
and Dazai is a man in a mask whose name Sigma will never learn, who they know for certain
is someone who wants to hurt them and that is all.

"Sorry," they mumble, and bury their face in their hands so Dazai can't look at them. "You
didn't bring me here to be miserable."

Dazai hasn't spoken in so long that panic strikes in Sigma's heart, that urge to get up and run
coming back with full force. Have they said something wrong? Well, they have just dumped
all their baggage onto the man without even asking. Maybe he just doesn't know what to say.
Sigma shakes his head, not moving from his cowering position even as he laughs dully. "I do
love the agency. I love the people. But I can't spend my life behind a desk. It'll kill me, I'm
certain it will."

They hear the spoon clatter to the table right before Dazai's hand falls on top of theirs in
replacement, making them jolt and look up as fast as if they were being attacked. Dazai,
before he speaks, stares down at their hands, lying together in the middle of the table. "I
understand that," he says, tone giving nothing away. "I thought the same, when I joined the
agency. I'm not saying you'll change your mind, because maybe you won't. But I understand.
I do."

He smiles wryly, a bitter note to his voice. "A lifetime of crime and killing does that to
someone. Makes it hard to adjust to being an ordinary man."

Sigma nods soundlessly.

Without waiting for his brain to catch up with his actions, he turns his hand around, palm up,
and twists it so he can interlock his fingers with Dazai's. They both stare at it for a few
moments, helpless, falling.

"Can I ask a completely unrelated question?" Sigma blurts.

Dazai looks startled, snapping out of whatever thoughts he was lost in. "Of course."

They huff out a laugh, feeling rather silly. "How did you know the correct pronouns to use for
me without me ever telling you?"

"Oh," Dazai utters. He clearly hadn't expected that. "Dostoyevsky spoke of you in Meursault.
He sometimes referred to you with they and them without explaining why. I didn't even
realize it at first."

"Oh," Sigma echoes.

They feel even sillier now. "I didn't think Dostoyevsky cared enough to mix and match my
pronouns," they say, holding back a laugh even as their lips quiver with the force of it. "It's
good to know that the modern terrorist can be so progressive. I'll have to mention it when he
eventually goes on trial for all the murders he committed, maybe they'll reduce his sentence."

He meets Dazai's eyes and they both instantly crack up at the pure ridiculousness of such a
thing. Sigma really can't believe that that was how Dazai knew. He'd never even considered it
as an outcome. "That's definitely cheered me up," he giggles, wiping tears of laughter out of
his eyes. "I thought - I don't know, I thought your jigsaw puzzle mind reading skills somehow
told you I was nonbinary."

He turns suddenly serious. "I am nonbinary, by the way," he tells Dazai. "That's why - the
pronouns. I didn't mention that either."

"I did figure," Dazai admits with a quirk of the lips. "You should mention it to the rest of the
agency. They'd all be very respectful, I promise."

Sigma shrugs. "It's not too important. Besides, Ranpo recently seemed to pick up on the they-
them pronouns, and I think Yosano has as well, so I'm planning to wait and see how long it
takes for everyone to be really confused about what to refer to me with and finally ask me."

This sends Dazai into another fit of laughter, and Sigma follows as a result, feeling much
lighter than he had at the start of the conversation.

Then Dazai's phone rings. It's still on silent, but Sigma sees the screen light up out the corner
of their eye. SLUG, says the caller ID, and the photo that fills the screen is a very blurry
picture of a kid with ginger hair seemingly lunging at the screen right as the picture was
taken.

"Um," Sigma says awkwardly. "Your phone is ringing."

Dazai looks round and dismisses the call with a sour expression. "Not important right now,"
he says with a shrug.

Sigma's not so sure, because it immediately goes off again. Dazai doesn't look at the screen,
suddenly seeming much more tired. He rubs his forehead with his fingertips, pushing dark
hair off his face as he exhales loudly, dramatically, trying to lighten the situation again.

"You can take it," Sigma tells him with a false smile. "I don't mind."

He really doesn't mind, not at all, but Dazai's reaction to the call is unsettling. Negative
emotions aren't something Sigma sees the man often openly express, so this is an unusual
situation to be in for them both.

Dazai picks up the phone and gets to his feet, grinning. "I'll be back in a quick sec, promise,"
he says, and grabs his coat off the side of the booth before darting towards the door.

Sigma doesn't know if Dazai knows this - he must, he knows everything - but they can see
him through the windows that surround the front door. They can see when Dazai's face
flickers with annoyance, frustration, when he goes silent for a long period of time. They bring
their drink up and drain the last cold dregs of it into their mouth, not taking their eyes off the
door. They don't quite know what they're looking for.

Eventually Dazai hangs up with a sullen expression and stands there for a moment longer
composing himself before wandering back in, cheerfully whistling. "Sorry to keep you
waiting," he says with an apologetic nod. He tosses his phone back down on the table.
Immediately as he does so, the screen lights up again with another call from the same caller.
Dazai doesn't so much as look at it, but his expression darkens in a way that makes Sigma
shiver even when they know it's not directed at them.

"Is everything ok?" they ask tentatively. "That's someone you don't like calling, I guess?"

That's more of a personal question than they were planning to ask, but whatever.

"It's no one," Dazai says evenly. Their shared good mood is shattered now, leaving them
feeling farther away from each other than before. "Unimportant."

He shuts the device down in the middle of another incoming call and shoves it deep into one
of his many pockets.

The chocolate muffin is still uneaten when they leave, just a little later.

A few days pass as normally as one could imagine they could. Dazai and Sigma's routine
remains relatively unchanged, although they sometimes head down to the cafe to grab
themselves a Montgomery Special before walking home. Occasionally, some of the other join
them - Lucy, Ranpo, Yosano, Atsushi, Kyouka. It's nice. It makes a change for Sigma to
consistently be included in conversation, to be acknowledged and spoken to warmly at all
times. It seems that any lingering distrust the agency may have had has dissipated, likely due
to Dazai's insistence on taking Sigma on as his new charge. Without even having been here
very long, Sigma knows Dazai's opinion on people they can trust carries weight. He's
incredibly grateful, really, to be offered that trust that he's not sure is deserved.

He feels like an imposter among these golden hearted detectives, an evil thing that's snuck
among them like an infection. Some days Sigma doesn't feel human much at all.

Most days he's fine. Most days, he's with Dazai.

That's somehow become the thing that gets him through the day. And Sigma isn't sure how to
feel about that.

"Dazai," Sigma calls, turning off the bathroom light as he exits. He knocks on Dazai's door
loudly before setting off down the hall, searching for his coat. "Dazai. We have to leave in
about five minutes or Kunikida will have our heads. Are you up? Dazai?"

If the detective is awake, he hasn't left his room or made a sound all morning. Sigma started
getting suspicious about twenty minutes ago, but isn't sure whether he should actually go in
to Dazai's room and see what's going on or if that would be a breach of privacy. Dazai has
never invited Sigma in there for a reason, and he respects that. However.

However. Dazai is notably suicidal. This much is obvious, from that book he carries around
to the bandages covering his wrists to the memory Sigma relives every time they look at the
man a certain way of him plunging down an elevator shaft, a grateful look of contentment on
his face. I leave the rest to you. Sigma knows. And he isn't sure he's ok with leaving to work
without at least making sure Dazai is alive.

He finds his coat folded up on top of the TV stand and sighs, shaking it out and pulling it
around his shoulders. "Dazai," he calls again. When there's no response, he goes around the
corner again, staring at Dazai's bedroom door. For a moment he just stands there, unsure of
how to proceed. Two whole minutes pass like this, in perfect silence.

Having the idea of Dazai dead in their mind isn't good for convincing Sigma to open the door
and head through. They bring their fist to the door and rap one more time. "Are you awake in
there? We need to leave right about now."

Images of Dazai bleeding out, overdosed, hanging, falling down an elevator shaft, flash
through his head. Sigma feels a little sick.

"Dazai," they croak, trying to keep the anxiety from their voice and failing miserably.
"Dazai."

They're going to be late for work. Sigma groans and leans their head against the door. Then
they hear it. A muted beeping noise. Their expression tightens, eyebrows knitting together as
they try to figure it out. An alarm, they think. Has Dazai's alarm been going off all this time?
How hasn't he heard it?

How hasn't he heard it?

"Fuck," Sigma mutters desperately, and finally grabs the door handle and yanks it open.

Dazai's room is a disaster, first of all. Half his wardrobe has been emptied out onto the floor,
and there are clothes thrown over a fancy desk in the corner, a large, full-to-bursting
bookcase and a bunch of boxes stacked next to the single bed that seems to be being used as a
nightstand. The walls of the bedroom are the only in the house that have been painted a
colour, filling the room with a bright blue. There are crooked pictures hung up on the wall,
assorted paintings and posters that don't seem to correlate with each other at all. The bed is
rumpled, covered in pillows and fitted with honey yellow sheets.

Tangled in them in Dazai. From here, Sigma can see his hair sticking to his forehead, his
limbs all pulled close to his chest. He's wearing a grey sweatshirt and pants that are stained
with sweat and riding up to reveal bandaged skin. His face is flushed and pinched in
discomfort underneath the blankets pulled up to his chin. Dazai looks so much smaller like
this. So vulnerable.

Sigma's first, panicked thought is that Dazai has taken something and overdosed right there in
his bed.
The second thought is more of a realization, and it is that Dazai is still breathing. They can
hear it without even having to approach, hear the loud, ragged breaths rattling his ribcage.

Dazai is sick. Sigma nearly collapses against the door with relief, their own breaths coming
rapid for a moment until they calm themself down.

It's then that they recognize the insistent beeping noise is, as they thought, Dazai's alarm,
lighting up his phone on the makeshift bedside table. They sigh and pick their way through
the sea of clothes and dirty dishes to take a glance at the screen. The alarm was set for seven
am. It's two minutes past eight now. According to the phone, the alarm hasn't been silenced
so much as once. It's been ringing for the last hour, loud enough for Sigma to hear through
the door, and it didn't wake the sleeping detective. That's definitely a concern.

"Dazai," they say gently, reaching out to shake his shoulders. Really, they should just go to
work and tell Kunikida that Dazai won't be in, but they want to at least make sure he's not in
need of a doctor before they leave. It definitely would be an inconvenience if they came
home to a corpse in Dazai's room.

The man moans softly, face twitching in his sleep. Sigma glances over at the door, uncertain.
Maybe he should just call Yosano.

He shakes Dazai again, slightly harder, and he whines something under his breath. "What's
that?" Sigma asks, leaning in closer. "Hey, what's that?"

"Mori?" Dazai mumbles, and Sigma's blood runs cold.

He must be referring to the Port Mafia boss, Mori Ougai - Sigma racks their brains and can't
come up with anyone else they know. "Sigma," they correct, trying to soften their voice. "It's
Sigma, remember? From the Decay? You know me."

Dazai somehow curls further in on himself, tugging the blankets close. "No-o," he moans.
"Go 'way."

Sigma should call Yosano.

The alarm is still going off, so Sigma swipes it away and the room is filled with blissful
silence at long last. This, seemingly, is the thing that stirs Dazai from his sleep, and he
breathes out sharply as his eyes flicker open. Sigma watches as Dazai's glassy eyes seem to
slowly register that he's not alone, and rise to meet Sigma's own. A moment passes where
they just stare.

"Good morning," Sigma says.

"Morning," Dazai replies hoarsely.

"Um," Sigma continues. "I'm sorry for coming in here. I was worried maybe you'd died."

Dazai shuts his eyes again, mouth set in a firm line. "Mhm… I wish. Sigma, you tell
Kunikida I'm not comin' in, ok? You can pick an excuse from that list I gave you. I've even
got some new ones. Tell him one of my ex girlfriends has tied me to a bomb and is about to
launch me into orbit… or tell him I'm tryin' out a new method of suicide that involves -"

"Dazai," Sigma interrupts. He's still standing stupidly beside the bed, arms hanging uselessly
by his sides. "Do you need me to call Yosano? Or somebody else?"

"Absolutely not," Dazai says immediately. He struggles to sit up, but gives up halfway
through and flops back down, clutching at his head. "It's just a cold, I'm fine. You should go
to work now, you'll be late and Kunikida will find some way to blame me, I'm sure…"

He buries his head under one of his pillows and doesn't move.

"Ok," Sigma says softly. They turn and leave the room again, clicking the door shut behind
them.

They go to put their shoes on and get ready to leave. They stop at the door and stare out the
window beside their couch, hesitant.

Instead of leaving, Sigma bends down and rummages in their bag to find the box of pain
medicine they'd went out and bought the day Dazai had his hangover. Then they head to the
kitchen and fill up a glass of water.

Dazai hasn't moved by the time they reenter the room and place the box and the glass on the
makeshift bedside table.

"What's'at?" Dazai groans, squinting out from under the pillow.

"Headache medicine," Sigma tells him. "And water. You should take them now, you'll be able
to sleep better."

"Can't sleep anymore anyway," the detective mumbles, rubbing at the marks the blanket has
left on his cheek. "Thanks, though. I'll take 'em soon."

Sigma nods stiffly. "Alright."

He leaves the room again, back down the hall to the door.

He stops halfway and sighs deeply before pulling his phone out his pocket.

Kunikida answers on the second ring. "Sigma," he says, sounding relieved. "Are you and
Dazai alright? I'm used to him not showing up on time, but when you didn't either I started
worrying."

Sigma stifles a laugh. "I'm fine. Dazai's unwell. I'm calling us both out for the day, if that's
alright."

There's a pause. "Oh," says Kunikida, and Sigma hears him clear his throat. "Is he, uh, ok?
Has he had water and something to eat? If he's sleeping, it would be a good idea to wake him
up and make sure he's still lucid, just in case he -"
"I've already made sure he's alright," Sigma reassures the man. It makes him smile a little,
seeing Kunikida care for Dazai despite all the trouble the man causes him at work. Dazai and
Kunikida's relationship was confusing to Sigma at first, but he understands now how they
work so well as partners despite the way they act. "There's no need to worry. I'm going to
stay here and keep him from dying. He'll be fine."

"Thank you so much, Sigma," Kunikida says gratefully. He can hear him smiling from the
other end of the line. "I can really see why Dazai wanted to room with you. Alright, I'll call to
check up -"

"Wait," Sigma says loudly. His eyes are wide with the words he's just heard. "What did you
say about - Dazai wanting to room with me?"

Kunikida sounds confused when he speaks. "Yes, he offered initially when you joined. I had
been planning to put the two of you together anyway, but he was very insistent. Ok, I'm going
to go now, I'm three minutes behind on my schedule - I'll call later to check up on him,
alright? Goodbye."

The empty line beeps in Sigma's ear.

A couple moments pass, and then he gathers himself and shrugs off his jacket again. He
heads into the kitchen and puts two pieces of bread in the toaster, then remembers that
Dazai's toaster doesn't work correctly and removes a slice so they toast one at a time. While
he does this, he boils the kettle and makes up a mug of peppermint tea. He hums to himself as
he does this, losing himself in the easy routine.

He knocks on Dazai's door lightly before entering this time.

"Sigma?" Dazai says, sounding unsure. He makes another attempt to sit up, swaying with half
lidded eyes, glazed with sickness. "You're gonna be late. What are you doing?"

"I called us both out," Sigma says simply. He shows Dazai the plate of toast and mug of tea.
"Here. Eat. You'll feel better."

Dazai blinks, dazed. Sigma presses the plate into his sweaty hands and sets the mug down
next to the untouched glass on the box table.

"I'm not hungry," Dazai says plainly.

"Yes you are," Sigma retorts. He stares at Dazai like a challenge. "Take the medicine. Drink
the tea. Eat the toast."

He sits down at the end of the bed and waits for Dazai's brain to catch up.

"Why?" Dazai asks flatly.

Good question. "Because you're sick," Sigma insists, and pushes the plate closer. "I'm not just
going to leave you here alone when you're sick, what kind of person do you think I am?"

Dazai doesn't say anything.

"Eat the toast," Sigma says again. "Please. You'll feel better."

"Not hungry," Dazai mumbles, and leans back against the head of the bed.

He opens his eyes again when Sigma stays silent. "What are you staring at?" he asks tiredly.

"Do you think I'm stupid?" Sigma asks blankly.

Dazai looks slightly startled. "What?"

"I've noticed you don't eat," Sigma says. He's grown tired of pretending he doesn't notice all
these things that Dazai tries to pretend are normal. Especially now that he's lying here, sick
and exhausted, still trying to get Sigma to leave him alone so he can fester in bed all day.
"You don't eat breakfast, you skip out on lunch half the time and you hardly ever come out of
your room for dinner. I can see you don't have a kettle or a fridge in here, so you can't have
been eating meals. I won't pester you about it after today if you don't want me to. I just want
you to eat while you're unwell. That's all."

An uncomfortable silence falls over the two of them, until Dazai fiddles with the box of
medicine and pops out two of them, swallowing them dry. Sigma wants to tell him to drink
some of the water too, but doesn't want to push it. Getting Dazai to take the medicine when
he clearly doesn't want to is already an achievement in itself.

That's why he's surprised when the man takes a swig of the tea as well.

"Good?" Sigma asks, on reflex.

Dazai cracks a small smile. "Peppermint. It's alright. Not my favourite kind of tea."

Sigma tilts their head. "What is your favourite, then?"

"I like hibiscus tea," Dazai admits, which makes Sigma raise their eyebrows. The detective
laughs. "What? Is that a surprise to you?"

"I would have taken you more for a black tea kind of person," Sigma says with a grin. "But I
guess I can see it. You like more fruity tasting drinks, then?"

Dazai nods and takes another shaky sip, coughing into his sleeve after he does so. "I used to
know a woman who cared a lot about tea," he says, smiling softly. "She made me try just
about every flavour under the sun. She was fond of fruity teas, so I was too."

Sigma tries picturing a younger Dazai made to drink cup of tea after cup of tea and snorts at
the image. He can't even imagine what the man would have looked like as a kid. "She sounds
lovely," Sigma says. "Anyone who cares about tea is good in my book."

"Maybe I'll introduce you," Dazai says with a chuckle. Then his expression sobers, and he
sighs. "Sigma, you don't need to stay here, you know. You got yourself a day off, you can do
whatever you want."
This annoys Sigma a little. "I didn't stay off to do whatever I wanted. I could come up with
much better excuses to skip work than you do. I'm here so I can make sure you don't just lay
in bed and not take care of yourself all day."

Dazai screws up his face. "What business is it of yours if I do, anyway?"

Sigma shakes his head, disbelieving. "You really are an idiot."

They're silent again.

"Please eat your toast," Sigma says.

"Fine," Dazai mutters. He doesn't look pleased about it. "If you really want me to."

He eats the toast.

"Do you feel any better?" Sigma asks, folding his hands in his lap.

"Not really," the other man tells him. "But I'll live. Hey, I'm eating the toast, you can go sit in
the living room if you want. I'll call for you if I start dying."

Sigma hums, but doesn't move.

Dazai watches him. "What's up?"

Another good question. Sigma doesn't know what's going on in his head right now. This
shouldn't be his business. Dazai isn't his business.

"Pass me the plate," he says, instead of voicing any of the thoughts racing through his head.
"I'll wash it for you. Try and rest, alright?"

Dazai bobs his head, looking vaguely relieved. "Thank you," he says quietly. "I'll do my
best."

It's weird seeing Dazai so submissive. It makes Sigma's chest tighten, watching him lay back
down on the twisted sheets looking smaller than he'd ever seen him. There's a strange little
part of him that wants to stay and watch over him, as if something could ever sneak in and
hurt a man like Dazai Osamu.

Sigma feels a lot more alone when he sits back down on the couch a few minutes later,
knowing that Dazai is sick just in the other room. He kind of wishes he'd gone to work now,
because he has nothing to do for the rest of the day but watch TV and clean. And clean he
does. It calms him, reminding him of the casino. His mind gets a chance to slow down, and
for a while he doesn't think about Dazai at all.

Kunikida calls at exactly twelve o'clock, the very second the clock changes. It makes Sigma
laugh a little to himself as he answers. "He's not dead," he says before even giving a greeting.
"He's sleeping. I made him eat."
"Thank God," Kunikida breathes. He sounds tired. "You're a real good man, Sigma. I
appreciate you a great deal."

Their breath hitches, and they let out a small, surprised laugh. "Thank you. I suppose I try my
best."

He checks on Dazai after that. The man is passed out, his lips parted for easier breathing, his
hair mussed and sticking out in all directions. He looks peaceful.

Sigma finds themself standing in the doorway for a few moments, not doing much. Maybe
it's not right, but there's something that makes them want to stay. Closer to Dazai. Dazai has
had this effect on him every day since they escaped Meursault.

When Dazai starts to stir, they immediately dart away down the hall, making themself busy
with something else. They come back a few minutes later, pretending they hadn't noticed the
man was even awake. "Afternoon. How's it going?"

"Awfully," Dazai croaks, shooting Sigma a thumbs down from under the blankets. "I want to
die."

"More tea?" Sigma offers, walking over to Dazai's bedside. The man peeks out at them,
foggy eyes wide and unfocused. The look makes Sigma's stomach swirl, and they swallow
and turn away.

"No, thank you," Dazai mumbles. "I don't feel all that -"

He suddenly gags, scrambling to sit up and clamping a hand over his mouth. He's gone so
pale he's almost green. Sigma leaps into action, grabbing a bin from beside the bedside table
and tearing off the lid only to find that the thing is already overflowing with wrappers,
bandages and empty sake bottles. Luckily, Dazai seems to choke it down and drops his hands
back onto the bed to hold him up. "Sorry," he groans. "I'll empty that later. Will you grab me,
uh, a mixing bowl from the kitchen?"

"You're gonna vomit in one of your mixing bowls?" Sigma says incredulously, wrinkling his
nose.

Dazai makes a face. "Ah, is Sigma too good to vomit in a mixing bowl like the common
folk?"

"If I needed to vomit I'd prefer to do it in a toilet," they say. "But whatever floats your boat."

They go grab a mixing bowl.

Dazai's curled up again when they come back, but smiles when he sees them. "Thanks," he
says hoarsely. "What a true hero you are."

Sigma tosses the bowl at him and laughs when he fumbles to catch it.

"How mean you are to a sick man," Dazai laments. "Cruel, nasty Sigma."
"Yes," Sigma agrees. "I've never done a thing for you in my life."

Dazai's phone goes off from the table. Sigma glances at it, seeing several text notifications
come through. Dazai himself doesn't seem bothered, and just yawns as he gestures in that
direction. "You wanna check and see what that says for me, Sigma?"

"What if it's personal?" Sigma asks.

Dazai shrugs. "Just pass it to me if you see a lot of curse words."

Sigma takes a glance at it.

Slug: Are you fucking serious?

Slug: I'm trying my fucking best but you're not putting in nearly the same effort I am and it's
so frustrating that you clearly don't care

Slug: You are such a dick.

He passes the phone to Dazai without a word.

"Ah," Dazai says when he sees the messages. "Oh dear."

Sigma should mind his own business, but - "Is everything ok?"

"It's nothing," Dazai sighs. He looks somehow more unhappy than before. "Have you ever
dated anyone, Sigma?"

Their heart rate skyrockets. "No," they admit, feeling rather embarrassed about it. "I've never
had the opportunity."

"Don't ever do it," Dazai says darkly. He drops his phone to his pillow and shuts his eyes.
"It's never worth it."

Sigma swallows. "Uh huh."

They wish Kunikida would call again so they could get out of this conversation. Then Dazai
continues. "Didn't mean to be a downer. You can go back to doing whatever you were doing
before if you want."

What Sigma had been doing before was actually watching Dazai sleep, but that's not
something they're willing to admit out loud. But they do have something they want to ask that
they definitely shouldn't. Something that's going to rot away at their mind if they don't bring
it up now.

Sigma and Dazai have pretty much broken all the unspoken rules they set between them
before now anyway, so they throw all caution to the winds and ask anyway.

"Are you dating someone, then?" they question as casually as they can manage.
Dazai laughs dryly. "Not anymore," he mutters. "Complicated. Why, is Sigma interested?"

Sigma's entire body goes cold, but Dazai giggles and they realize he was only joking and
relaxes. "How could someone not be, with how stunning you look right now," they deadpan,
crossing their arms. "Sweaty armpits, tomato red face, cradling a mixing bowl to vomit in -
that's the peak of beauty, for sure."

"Sigma!" Dazai protests loudly, punching the mattress. "How superficial you are, only
interested in me when I'm physically well and good looking. Hmph! If you can't love me at
my worst, you don't deserve me at all!"

His phone pings again.

Sigma inhales, suddenly feeling awkward again. Dazai looks the same, having gone even
paler than before, although maybe he's just close to throwing up again.

"You remember Chuuya from Meursault?" Dazai says suddenly. Sigma nods, furrowing his
eyebrows before suddenly understanding. Ah.

They pause for a minute. The question doesn't need a direct answer, and frankly, Sigma
hadn't expected Dazai to say anything about it at all, so he's not sure what to do now. He tries
to remember Nakahara Chuuya, the gravity manipulator, who had been under Dostoyevsky's
control at the time. He was very good looking, even while cursed with vampirism. The
speech Dazai had given before his attempt to take out Dostoyevsky suddenly makes a lot
more sense.

"You guys were childhood friends?" Sigma wonders.

"Mhm hm," Dazai hums. He stretches out across the bed, trying to look casual. He doesn't
meet Sigma's eyes. "If by "friends," you mean we spent years trying to kill each other. We
have a complicated past." The man snorts. "I would recommend never dating someone you
can't spend five minutes in a room with without starting an argument. It doesn't make for
an… easy relationship, I suppose."

This is a lot of new information that Sigma doesn't know how to process, but the two main
things that stand out in their mind are - Dazai is single, and Dazai is at least bisexual. Not
that this is information they need to know, for any reason whatsoever. Sigma shakes their
head to clear their head, guilt roiling in their gut. Dazai's sick and all they're thinking about is
- whatever. They should really leave the room now.

If Sigma had one yen for every time they've thought that they should do something today and
then not done it, they'd be rich for sure.

Dazai lets out a shaky laugh. "Ahaha, I don't even know what I'm saying now… disregard
everything as being a sick man's rambles. I don't actually… feel all that great righ'now." He
groans. "My head hurts."

Sigma gets to his feet, relieved to actually have a reason to. "I'll go, then, let you get some
sleep -"
Dazai suddenly grabs Sigma's wrist with a pale, sweaty hand. Sigma startles, turning around
to stare at the man. His dark eyes are blown wide, shining with sickness.

"Can you stay?" he asks, voice unsteady.

Sigma breathes in and out, biting back the yes, of course that immediately springs to his lips.
He should say no. It's not right, not with Sigma's feelings towards Dazai that the man doesn't
even know about. He'd be taking advantage of a sick man who isn't even in his own head.
Wouldn't that make him a bad person?

"Please," Dazai whispers, and Sigma crumbles faster than ever before.

They go round to the other side of the bed and pull back the covers, immediately noticing
how hot and sticky with sweat they are. Dazai must notice their expression, because he
winces with embarrassment, pawing at the sheets. "Sorry. I didn't - really notice."

Sigma hums, thinking. "Here," he says after a moment. "Can you sit up? I'll change the
covers if you'll tell me where I can get another pair." He studies Dazai as well. "You should
also get changed. That can't be comfortable."

Dazai flushes, pulling his knees to his chest. "Uh - I think I have another set of bed covers in
my wardrobe, but it's a mess in there, so I don't know where it'd be. I also might pass out if I
sit up, so. Sorry about that."

"That's ok," Sigma says, already going to the wardrobe and rummaging around amongst the
piles of clothes that have fallen off their hangers, making a mental note to ask Dazai later
whether he can wash and iron them later. He's not sure whether it'd be rude to ask such a
thing, but he'll have to see. "It's not your fault you're sick."

He finds the bed covers, these ones a bright red, and changes the old ones in silence while
Dazai watches from the corner of the bed. He's clearly drifting off, his chin resting on his
chest as his eyes droop. Sigma takes the opportunity to slip into the bathroom with the old
covers and the glass he brought up earlier, putting the covers in the newly fixed washing
machine and refilling the glass with cold water to bring back to Dazai. The man brightens
when he sees him again, looking slightly more awake. It makes Sigma's heart stutter briefly,
and he tries to think about anything else than what he's about to do.

"Drink some more water," he orders, and helps Dazai get ahold of the glass. His hands are
slippery with sweat, so Sigma gets close and lifts it to his mouth so he can drink. Dazai is
practically radiating heat, and he shakes against Sigma's hold.

They set the glass down and sit beside Dazai on the opposite side of the bed. There isn't much
space. They're worried to lie down, but Dazai seems insistent that they do, pulling them down
by the sleeve. So Sigma does, tugging the covers over the both of them tentatively.

They turn over and are startled breathless when they're met directly with Dazai's eyes, staring
right into theirs, gazing at them with wonder like they're something really special. Sigma
hasn't been this close to him since Meursault, and thinking like that is just going to make
their head run wild, wilder than it's already going with the proximity between the two of
them. It's ridiculously warm under here, two people's body heat trapped in such a small
space. Their legs brush together, and Sigma doesn't feel like they can catch a breath like this.

One of Dazai's hands drifts across the short expanse of the sheets between them and catches
Sigma's hand, holding it in his own. They think they're going to die like this and they
wouldn't even be unhappy about it.

Dazai's eyes finally slide shut, and they can breathe again without their soul being stared
straight through. Just when Sigma thinks they can maybe rest as well, the other man speaks
up again, voice soft and scratchy.

"It's a shame you wanna leave, Sigma… you'd make a really good detective, I think."

He falls asleep right after. Sigma stays awake for a few hours more.

Dazai gets better, and the two of them are back at work the next day. Kunikida berates them
for not keeping him updated more often than they had. "You didn't answer my calls after
twelve o'clock!" he shouts in distress. "I was worried about you, you moron, Dazai!"

"Kunikida worries about me!" Dazai cries, eyes bright and wide. Kunikida has a grip on his
shoulders, but Dazai doesn't seem bothered at all and is grinning dopily. "How cute! Atsushi,
don't you think it's cute how Kunikida loves me oh so much?"

Atsushi, who's just wandered in with his bag over his shoulder and Kyouka at his side,
startles and looks around like a deer in the headlights. Sigma suppresses a laugh. "Uh," the
younger boy says with uncertainty. "Of course. If you say so."

"You are the worst man alive!" Kunikida yells, and shakes Dazai's shoulders before letting go
again and pushing away furiously. "Take care of yourself when you're sick and don't leave
Sigma to babysit you! And call me when stuff like that happens! I mean it! I don't say these
things for fun!"

Kyouka and Sigma meet eyes and make faces at each other behind Kunikida's back.

"I love you too, Kuni-ki-daaa," Dazai sings as the blonde walks away. Sigma can hear the
angry cries long after he's left.

"You ought to be nicer to him," Atsushi tells Dazai, an exasperated look crossing his face.
"He does a lot for you."

"I know!" Dazai replies cheerfully, clapping his hands together. "I told him I love him too, is
that not enough?"

Without warning, he grabs Sigma's hand and pulls him into the office. Sigma is more or less
used to this by now, and follows obediently. He waves at Atsushi and Kyouka as he goes
inside, smiling.

The pair wave back, looking at each other like they know something Sigma doesn't.
A week passes before Sigma wakes up one morning to go to work and Dazai isn't there.

They search the whole apartment, which isn't a lot of space, and come up empty. However,
the man's toothbrush is wet and both his shoes and jacket are gone, indicating he likely wasn't
kidnapped and just left early for whatever reason. It strikes an unusual feeling in Sigma's
chest that they don't like. Dazai would never go to work early unless something huge was
happening, especially not without waking Sigma up first.

But they push down all their anxieties and get dressed and ready, walking to work alone for
the first time since their first couple of days spent in those hotels.

It's very silent on the way there. Usually, Sigma will spot at least one person, usually Kenji or
Ranpo, hanging around in the cafe, and often Yosano will be outside smoking before starting
work for the day. Today there's nothing. The walk up the stairs to the sixth floor is silent, and
Sigma can't help but feel ridiculously uneasy, a sickness rolling in their stomach.

They'd gotten used to not being alone these past few weeks, so having spent his morning
without seeing a single familiar face when he always sees Dazai within his first five minutes
of waking time in the morning is unnerving.

When they finally enter the agency, it's silent.

They stand at the entrance, suddenly scared something is actually wrong because one thing
the agency never is is quiet. There is always some kind of noise - Kunikida snapping orders,
Naomi and Haruno gossiping, Ranpo rustling wrappers and complaining, Dazai strutting
around looking for someone to irritate. But Sigma can't even see anyone around right now.
"Hello?" they call, and wince at the way their voice wavers with the word.

Someone appears out on nowhere and Sigma cries out, hand flying to the gun in his pocket,
but it's just Kenji of all people, popping his head around the corner of the hall that leads to the
bathrooms, the kitchen and the conference room. "Sigma!" he cries, grinning and waving his
little arms around. "Good morning! We're all in the conference room if you wanna join us!"

A bad feeling settles in Sigma's chest. "Has something happened?" they practically shout. If
they were a cat, their hair would be standing on end. "Is Dazai there too?"

"Of course Dazai's here," Kenji says cheerfully, skipping right past his first question. "Come
on, the Director will explain everything when you get in."

The Director. The Director would have no need to be involved in a situation unless it was
something terribly bad -

Or unless they were arguing over whether to remodel the toilets or get a new fridge-freezer
for the kitchen, a conversation Sigma bore witness to on his very first week here. The agency
are very fickle. Really, it could be anything, and he needs to calm down if he doesn't want to
look like a nervous wreck the second he steps foot in the room. So he takes a breath, calming
himself before shutting the front door and making to follow Kenji to the door where he can
hear the sounds of conversation through the wall. He tenses automatically at the loud voices,
then forces himself to relax again. He really should be over this by now.
"Sigma's here," Kenji announces after slamming the door open so hard he can hear it crack
the wall. "Oops, sorry. I haven't had breakfast yet."

The entire agency is gathered around a long table, even Naomi and Haruno, who almost
never show up for things unless they're bored or want to cause a stir. The Director sits at the
head of the table, looking composed as ever. Everyone else stares at him as he walks through
the door. Sigma can see Dazai and Kunikida, standing in front of a whiteboard and a small,
portable TV that is currently casting the picture of -

Sigma's heart stops.

Dostoyevsky stares right back at him.

It's a photograph. Not a live video, not anything that can speak words, for which Sigma is so
grateful he nearly falls to his knees. As it is, he has to lean against the doorway, unable to
take his gaze off the picture. It looks like a prison mugshot, probably the one taken before
Meursault. Dostoyevsky's grin quirks up at the corners lazily, heavily lidded eyes bearing into
him so hard they've pinned him into position, rendering him incapable of moving.

"Sigma," they hear Dazai say, and suddenly the detective is right in front of them and they
yelp, the movement nearly stopping their heart then and there. "I'm sorry I didn't wake you
this morning. There was a situation, and it's unpleasant, so I didn't want to wake you early to
deal with it. I left a note on the door, did you get it?"

Sigma shakes their head, craning their neck to try and see the screen behind Dazai's head.
The Russian's face hasn't shifted, just the same cool, knowing gaze as before. Sigma's mouth
dries as he stares.

"Come inside," Kunikida says. He's still standing by the TV, and everyone in the room is still
staring at Sigma like someone's died and he feels bile rise in his chest as the possibilities of
Dostoyevsky's face on the monitor plus these looks he's getting from his coworkers could
mean. "We saved you a seat. You really should sit down."

Sigma doesn't listen. "Tell me what's going on," he demands, and there is that old managerial
tone he's been missing since starting here at the agency. The one that commands respect, the
one that makes people flinch as they scramble out of his path. It works to make several of
them lower their heads - Atsushi, Poe, Lucy, Haruno. "Someone tell me, now. Don't try and
bullshit me, just come out with it -"

"Dostoyevsky was spotted in Nagoya last night," Ranpo interrupts. He has a lollipop in his
mouth as usual, feet tossed up on the table, crossed at the ankle. He looks entirely unbothered
by the bomb he's just dropped upon the room. "He was alone. Gogol wasn't with him, or if he
was he wasn't seen. Local authorities attempted to apprehend him despite government
warnings not to approach and to call the Unusual Powers Division as soon as possible.
Twenty officers were killed in minutes. Dostoyevsky fled the scene and hasn't been seen
since."

Sigma breathes in, and out, and in, and out.

Nagoya is about a four hour drive from here.

"The Special Division has men watching every camera and stationed at every major entrance
and exit to the entire city," Kunikida says, hastily taking over where Ranpo had ominously
left off. "They're conducting a search of every possible location he could be hiding out in,
every criminal den or safehouse known to the police. The Division has also sent some of their
best ability users to assist at the scene. They'll have to close in on him eventually."

"Twenty people," Kyouka murmurs, staring at the table. "All at once."

"Kyouka," Atsushi whispers, nudging the young girl beside him.

"And guess what?" Lucy suddenly pipes up. She jumps to her feet, looking furious and
slamming her fists on the table. "The government isn't allowing us to get involved because of
all the recent incidents us and Dostoyevsky have been involved in. None of us know whether
the Port Mafia has anything to do with it either, considering it's so far from Yokohama - and
it's so stupid! We're some of the most powerful ability users in the country, we need to be able
to do something or he'll get away and do God knows what!"

"Lucy," Atsushi protests, tugging at her sleeve to get her to sit.

"If the government won't allow us to involve ourselves," the Director speaks up for the first
time, "then we do as they say. We cannot afford any more trouble."

"As if that shit with the Book was our fault," Yosano snaps. "They should know that we
understand Dostoyevsky better than anyone. Detective work is our damn job and it's that
fuckers fault that we haven't been able to do any of it recently."

"Now, Yosano," Kunikida says. "You know that -"

"We should just to to Nagoya anyway," Ranpo interrupts. "What can the government do if we
catch him?"

The Director frowns deeply. "Ranpo, we will not -"

"Does anyone else remember what happened the last time you didn't listen to me -"

"Ranpo, this isn't the same -"

"It's our job -"

"It's not our job, this is the Special Division's -"

"Fuck the damn Special Division, they're -"

"- Oh my god, shut up -"

" - If we just went there, we could at least try -"

"Guys," someone shouts, and it's Dazai, expression displeased as he steps away from Sigma
and commands silence with just a word. "This is not something we are currently going to
debate -"

"Hey," Poe suddenly speaks, raising a hand so everyone looks to him. "Sigma, if I may, you
used to work with Dostoyevsky - is it possible you might have any insight into his
whereabouts?"

All eyes back on Sigma. They stare at the sets of expectant dinner-plate orbs, fixed on them
and them alone, cutting them open right there on the floor. Dostoyevsky watches over it all,
still smiling like he knew everything in the world when that picture was taken. Like he knew
that the picture would be used to haunt Sigma specifically, like that knowing look is entirely
there to taunt them alone.

"That's enough," the Director announces, and suddenly no one is looking at them and they
can't understand why. "Dazai, take Sigma -"

"Already on it," someone says, and there are hands grabbing them and Sigma nearly cries out
before realizing their lungs are empty, collapsing in on themselves in their chest. They're led
outside, the door shut, and then their legs are giving out and they are suddenly crashed on the
floor, staring at a tiny crack on the pale yellow wall across from them next to the kitchen
door. Sigma clutches at their heart and opens their mouth like it will force them to breathe
easier.

"Sigma," they hear Dazai say. There he is, crouching in front of them on his knees, gazing at
them with such concern it almost makes them laugh. "You need to breathe, you're -"

Sigma slaps him right across the face.

Dazai immediately recoils, eyes practically bulging with shock, and he brings a hand to his
cheek on reflex, blinking. Sigma inhales sharply and can't breathe out again for a moment,
something heavy weighing their stomach down. "You fucking idiot," they shout, and hug
themself tight, bringing their legs up to their chest. "You - you didn't wake me up, you didn't
tell me what was happening, you left me a note on the door and you thought that was enough
warning? What did - that note even say? "Sorry Sigma, Dostoyevsky was about a four hour
drive from here last we saw him and no one knows where he is now, see you at the agency?"
Did you even think? Did you even think how scared I'd have been - if I - if I had known
before I had to come to work this morning?"

"I'm sorry," Dazai murmurs, looking genuinely distressed. His cheek is turning a bright red
where Sigma hit him. "I'm sorry, I didn't think."

"You asshole," Sigma spits, and then the world is spinning around them so badly they have to
scramble at the floor for purchase in case they tip right over. "You asshole, I - I would - have
fr-freaked out if I knew -"

"Sigma," Dazai says again. "You have to breathe. You're hyperventilating."

Oh. Oh, they are, aren't they, and their skin is crawling like there are bugs marching across
the surface of it and bile is sloshing around within their stomach and they're suddenly so
lightheaded they lurch forwards and think they're going to pass out before Dazai catches
them, holding them tight in his arms, leaning their head on his shoulder. "I've got you," the
man says firmly in their ear. "I've got you. Nothing's going to happen, I promise you. I'm so
sorry, I should have thought - I've got you now. I won't let anything happen to you."

And that's exactly when the tears that were prickling Sigma's eyes roll over and suddenly
there is sob after sob wracking his chest, so hard he feels like he might actually, honestly
throw up, and he has to cling to Dazai so hard that he will certainly have bruises. Dazai holds
him the entire time. One of his hands leaves his arm and moves to run up and down his back
in a long, gentle motion, soothing. Sigma buries his face in Dazai's neck and wishes this was
all over. Sigma digs his nails into Dazai's sleeves and wishes he'd died when he fell out the
Sky Casino and he didn't have to go through this fear now, the fear of being taken away from
this makeshift home he's created for himself and used again and again and again and again.

"Fuck," Sigma blurts, and shakes their head, feeling their hair brush against Dazai's chin. "I
don't want to die. I want this to be over."

"We won't let him near you again," Dazai whispers to him like a promise. "There are people
who are here to protect you now. No one is going to kill you, and no one is going to make
you do anything you don't want to do, ok? You're calling the shots now. No one else."

"I want him dead," Sigma mumbles, and his next sob is half of a hysterical laugh. "Dazai -
Dazai."

"Still here," he says. "Breathe. Mimic how I'm breathing."

Sigma can't, and they can't manage to say anything about it, so they just cling to Dazai and
heave, not even conscious enough to be embarrassed at the fact that the agency are just in the
other room and might even be able to hear them out here bawling like a baby. The realization
just feels like another dull thud on Sigma's chest, making them shake. Breath after breath
comes faster than before, and Dazai holds them through every bit of it, not once letting go,
staying silent unless Sigma makes a sound and then whispering a private reassurance,
keeping them afloat.

Sigma's so exhausted they feel like passing out by the time they've come down from their
panic, and by then they don't have the energy to muster the will to even care about how they
look to anyone else. However, they've rethought how humiliating it is that Sigma is for sure
soaking Dazai's shirt sleeve with tears and snot and quickly pulls away, laughing at nothing at
all, covering their mouth so they don't throw up.

"Sorry," they choke, "sorry, sorry for freaking out."

"God, Sigma, don't apologize for that," Dazai tells him, and when Sigma looks up at his face
it's written all over with concern and care and something else that he can't think about. "I'd be
far more worried if you didn't care at all. Ok? We're gonna figure this all out."

"Ok," Sigma mumbles. "I trust you."

He sits there a moment more, thinking wildly how funny it is that it only took a complete
breakdown for him to finally be held by someone, and how he'd certainly do it again if it
meant Dazai would be here with his arms around him, whispering in his ear.

"Fuck," says Sigma softly. "I hate this. I hate this so much."

"I'm sorry," Dazai tells him like a promise. "I'm really sorry. I'll make this up to you."

Sigma thinks Dazai could make it up to them by simply holding them forever without letting
go, but would never confess such a thing out loud.

The rest of the work day passes in relative silence. It appears the Director has convinced
everyone to be calm about the Dostoyevsky situation, which Sigma is ultimately grateful for.
They weren't a fan of spending the day being bombarded with constant reminders of the
situation. However, Ranpo has a radio set up at his desk, seemingly one belonging to a cop
that Kunikida tiredly berates him for stealing, that gives him silent, crackled updates on
whatever's going on over the police lines in Nagoya. Every time it makes a sound, Sigma has
to grip his desk so he doesn't jump. The entire room silences itself each time, only for it to be
nothing and for everyone to quietly, awkwardly, resume whatever conversation they had been
taking part in.

A half hour before his lunch break, the Director calls Sigma into his office. He doesn't even
have the strength left in him to panic about whatever could be wrong. He's too tired.

It turns out that that is actually what the Director wants to see him about. "I've spoken to
Dazai," the man says cooly, and Sigma blinks - he hadn't seen Dazai leave his desk all day, or
had he blacked out and missed it? "He's going to take you home. There is a car stationed
outside of the dormitories, and another just down the street, both containing Special Division
agents. They'll be watching over the agency tonight in case of emergency. There will also be
a car outside right now, ready to escort Dazai and yourself back."

He seems to recognize the look on Sigma's face and sighs. "This is not up for negotiation."

In truth, Sigma has been mildly afraid of the agency Director since arriving here. He has such
a large presence, and carries so much power that every movement of his feels deliberate and
set. Sigma would never admit it to a soul, but the man reminds him of the people that Sigma
was taken by in the desert, simply because of that aura that radiates pure strength. Now,
however, he really does just look like a tired old man. Sigma can't blame him. He knows the
Director went through a ridiculous amount during the agency's recent difficulties - they all
did, of course, but the Director had to have held himself responsible. He's gone visibly soft
around the edges, like he hasn't slept in a week.

Sigma decides against arguing with him, because he's exhausted too, and neither of them
have the energy to keep up a debate. "Thank you, sir," he quietly says instead, bowing
respectfully. He's about to turn and leave the room when he hears the Director behind him
speak again.
"Sigma," says the man. He sits up straighter in his seat, and Sigma then notices the cat-
themed calendar hanging behind his head and resists the urge to crack a smile. He really isn't
that scary after all.

"Yes?" Sigma speaks into the room.

The Director blinks slowly, like some kind of old lizard. "Get some rest," he says simply.

Sigma swallows and nods before taking off again.

Dazai walks him downstairs. There is, indeed, a car waiting outside, inconspicuous apart
from the tinted windows. Sigma stops at Uzumaki for a Montgomery Special to takeaway
before they go. The liquid sloshes around in the paper cup as the car bounds along the road,
stuttering over potholes and speedbumps. Sigma feels a little sick by the time they get out at
the dorms, clutching at his stomach and groaning.

"You get motion sick?" Dazai asks, taking Sigma's drink out their hands so they don't drop it
as they stumble up the stairs.

"Not usually," Sigma moans. Ugh, he wants to die. "I'm gonna lie down for a while. Let me
know if you see Dostoyevsky outside the window or something."

Dazai snorts and unlocks the door, giving Sigma the room to do as they'd promised and
collapse on the couch as soon as they've shrugged their shoes and jacket off, bag tossed
carelessly onto the floor. They flop onto their face, squeezing their eyes shut against the
storm in their stomach. Dazai moves around them, hanging up Sigma's bag and folding their
jacket. It's sickeningly domestic. It makes them feel odd.

"Do you want something to eat?" the detective asks.

Sigma rolls over so he can see Dazai fully and shrugs. "I might vomit it up."

"You still need to have something, at least," Dazai insists. He points an accusing finger at
Sigma. "Don't call me a hypocrite. It's different."

"You are a hypocrite," Sigma mumbles, closing their eyes. They don't feel like talking about
this right now, but Dazai is bringing it up, so. Not their fault.

Neither of them speak for a moment, and then Dazai hums, moving across the floor. "I'll eat
something if you do too."

Sigma opens their eyes again and stares.

Dazai stares back. He looks like he's serious. The meaning of his words pass between the two
of them, and they sit in it for a moment silently.

"Ok," Sigma agrees.

They both nod in unison, Sigma's slightly muffled from having his face in the pillow. Then
Dazai laughs, and Sigma follows, the absolute insanity of the situation setting in. There are
government agents waiting outside in case Dostoyevsky attacks the agency and Sigma and
Dazai are dancing around each other, neither entirely certain where they stand with the other
anymore. They have broken all their rules. Everything goes, now.

"What do we wanna eat?" Dazai asks loudly, clapping his hands together. "Your choice. To
make up for me freaking you out this morning."

"Woohoo," Sigma cheers dryly, but he's forcing down a grin. "I should have a panic attack
every time I want something and then you can't say no."

"I couldn't say no to you anyway," Dazai says.

He looks like he regrets it instantly, eyes going comically wide. "Argh! What do you want to
eat! Answer or say nothing at all!"

Sigma is still recovering from that - I couldn't say no to you anyway - and for a moment
doesn't know how to respond. "Um," he says, head spinning a little. "Chinese."

So Sigma orders himself a prawn fried rice and Dazai some sweet and sour chicken balls and
rice and the two of them make themselves busy while they wait. Sigma is preparing the
couch, planning to sleep early that night, or at least get into bed and have a long, restless
night of tossing and turning. Dazai is washing dishes. It's very quiet for a while until
suddenly something crashes outside and Sigma yowls like a cat, hair standing on end like one
too, gun drawn from between the cushions and positioned in his hands instantly. Dazai comes
racing into the room, arms dripping wet with soap. "It's nothing," he says reassuringly. "Just
someone's car backfiring."

Sigma shakes their head, eyes fixed on the drawn curtains until Dazai walks over and places
one soapy hand on theirs, gently removing their finger from the trigger. "All good," he tells
Sigma honestly. "Trust me. No one is going to hurt you."

They swallow, hard, head pounding.

When they look up, Dazai is clearly concerned, lips pulled down in a frown. He leans over,
and Sigma says "your hands are still wet, idiot," to which Dazai doesn't reply. He just looks at
them. Despite what they've just said, they wish Dazai would get closer.

"Stay in my room tonight," Dazai proposes.

Sigma jolts. They haven't been in there since Dazai was sick, and they hadn't spoken about it
again afterwards either, so this suggestion being put forwards is startling. "Where?" they ask,
confused. "You don't have room for a futon. And your bed is barely big enough for one
person."

""Barely" being the keyword," Dazai says cheekily, tapping the side of his nose. "That means
it can fit two of us."
They say nothing.

"You don't have to," Dazai stumbles over himself to say, suddenly looking rather
embarrassed. "I just - don't want you to be all alone out here. Maybe you'd feel better with
someone else. But you don't have to."

"I'd like to," Sigma says before he can even think about it too hard.

Damn his impulsive reactions. But also, maybe, he should thank them? Is spending a night in
Dazai's single-person bed a good thing? It won't help lessen his feelings for the man, that's for
sure.

"Ok," says Dazai, looking faintly frazzled, blinking a little too fast. "Awesome. Ah, that's the
food at the door - no, sit back down, I'm already standing. I got it."

Thankfully, the delivery person is not Fyodor Dostoyevsky in disguise as Sigma had secretly
feared, and they manage to plate up their food in peace. Sigma's not sure what Dazai's going
to want to do next, but it seems he wants to sit on the couch and eat, so that's what they do.
There's not much on on the TV, so they sit and chat instead while something dumb plays in
the background, just distracting each other and thinking about anything other than the
situation at hand. It helps, having his mind taken off it. Sigma feels better after it, even more
so when Dazai actually eats without complaint. It fills him with a strange sense of
accomplishment.

Once they've eaten, Dazai takes their plates, an unexpected show of hospitality, and leaves
the room.

He comes back a moment later. "Are you coming or what?"

So Sigma follows, heart weirdly pounding because he's got absolutely no clue what to be
expecting now. Are they really going to just sit there all night? And do what? It's really not
likely to Sigma that Dazai will want to try anything, because he's sure that even if the
detective does hold an interest in him there's no way he'd be the one to make the first move.
The thought makes him groan to himself softly. He really doesn't want to make the first
move.

They're surprised when they get to Dazai's room and finds it's been cleaned up, the floor
finally visible from where the sea of clothes had drowned it before, the bin emptied and
rubbish cleared entirely. Of course, Sigma's last visit in here had been unexpected for the
both of them, so Dazai hadn't know he'd have company beforehand. He'd at least had warning
this time. However, Sigma refrains from commenting on it in case it's something Dazai's
embarrassed about and thinks of something else to say instead. "I like the paintings. They're
very… interesting."

Dazai snorts, flopping down at the end of his bed to leave room for Sigma to sit. "They're
ugly. But Yosano says having a lot of colour in ones room is good for making them less
depressed, so." He stretches his arms out, gesturing vaguely. "I painted my walls really bright
and bought colourful bedsheets and filled the empty spaces with useless junk just so I'd have
something to look at when I didn't want to get out of bed. And I hate to admit it, but it was
extremely effective. It's a very cozy room to sleep in."

"It looks it," Sigma says, finding strange comfort in Dazai's previous words. At least he
knows now that when Dazai's spending too much time in his room, he's at least not in
miserable darkness. "I like it a lot. You should do the rest of the apartment up like this too."

Dazai smiles wryly. "Remember we're being moved accommodations," he reminds them.
"But when we get to our new ones, I'll definitely paint it all up nice. It can be a little project
for me to do."

Sigma sits down next to Dazai, watching his reaction to their words carefully. "I'll help you,"
they volunteer. "It can be a team effort."

The detective makes eye contact with them, expression suddenly unreadable. "Even if
Dostoyevsky is caught or killed tonight?" he asks, a little too brightly for the situation. "You'd
stay long enough to help me out?"

Sigma frowns, the words casting an unpleasant feeling in their stomach. "I wouldn't leave
immediately," they mutter. "I'd need to figure out what I wanted to do first."

"You don't know?" Dazai wonders aloud. "Have you got ideas? You could start up a casino of
your own if you wanted, I'm sure."

"I would absolutely not have the funds for that," Sigma sighs. "I mean, I'd love that. Or I
think I would. But, frankly, I don't have a clue what I want."

He pauses.

"I've never had the freedom to choose before," he admits softly. "So I suppose I don't know.
Being able to do whatever I want is… kind of terrifying. It'll take me some time to adjust to
everything."

Dazai's looking at him strangely. "Yeah," he says. "Yeah, that makes sense. I understand that.
Really."

Sigma smiles over at Dazai, a sudden warmth blooming in his chest. "That's good. I don't
have to feel stupid about not knowing things, then."

"Of course not," Dazai says. His dark eyes are wide and bright. "All of us here at the Armed
Detective Agency have overcome things in order to get where we are. That's why, cheesy as
it may sound, we help each other out. Even if you were to leave, we'd still be happy to help
you with whatever you needed."

He suddenly shifts to turn on the TV before shuffling backwards to lean against the pillows.
He gestures for Sigma to follow, and he reluctantly does. Their thighs brush together, and
Sigma flushes, glad Dazai's too busy fiddling with the remote control to look at him.

"I've got a DVD player," the detective tells them, bending over to dig under the bed and
coming up with a box full of plastic cases. "We can watch whatever you want, if I've got it.
It'll be good for keeping your mind off everything until we receive news. Are you good with
that?"

Sigma takes the box and digs through the DVDs, looking for something he recognizes with a
faint smile on his lips. "I think so. I can't think of anything else we could do all evening
without leaving the apartment. Wow, you have a lot of animated movies. I didn't take you for
the type."

Dazai chuckles, looking sheepish. "I've had them a while, from back in a time where I was on
the run and was a little starved for entertainment. These were all on sale for about two
hundred yen. I have to admit, I got attached to them. But if you want something else there's a
bunch of live action stuff under them, too. Take your pick."

Sigma has heard of most of these movies, but never had the time to watch one, so after a little
deliberation with Dazai, he picks one called Monokoke-Hime and they turn it on. Dazai
settles back into position right next to Sigma, the two of them pressed together on the tiny
bed. Dazai's hair brushes against the side of Sigma's face. The faint smell of coconut fills his
nose, and he bites back a smile as the movie begins to play. "I've seen this one a hundred
times before," Dazai tells him, curling his legs up close to him. "Don't mind me if I don't pay
as much attention."

So for a few hours, Sigma and Dazai lose themselves in the movie, occasionally engaging in
conversation during it but mostly keeping to themselves. The light shining through Dazai's
curtains fades fast in ordinary winter fashion. The rest of the agency must have returned
home by now, and Sigma feels a little safer, knowing they're surrounded by others, not alone.

Even if Dostoyevsky and Gogol are still out there. Even then. Sigma, for the first time in their
life, has a real support system, and the thought makes their head hurt a little.

They don't know if they really want to leave, and it's scary. Sure, Sigma doesn't enjoy the
work. Sure, it's boring and draining and they wish there was more stimulation in their life.
But.

You'd make a really good detective.

But Sigma wants. Sigma wants and wants and wants. Sigma has always been a person who
desires very little, but now, he can have things. It makes him feel strange. Not having
someone to give him orders.

A little, sick part of Sigma's mind wishes he still had someone to give him orders. Sometimes
he feels like he can't function without it.

Most of the time, though, Sigma knows who he is and what he needs. And now, sat with his
body pressed against Dazai's, he knows that no matter what his future holds for him, he needs
this.

This is the closest Sigma has been to having everything he's always wanted.
Something comes into contact with their skull, and their breath hitches as they realize what it
is. Dazai is leaning against their shoulder, eyes closed, lips turned up gently. Sigma's heart
rockets into overdrive, but they don't move. After a moment, they slump over, resting their
head against Dazai's. Neither of them say a thing.

When the movie ends, Sigma tries to shuffle into a sitting position, realizing that the two of
them had slid down the bed until they were both nearly lying down entirely. But then Dazai
makes a sleepy snuffling sound, and Sigma sighs. He's fallen asleep. Sigma shouldn't wake
him. There are shadows under Dazai's eyes from lack of sleep, and they know he suffers from
insomnia, making it difficult for him to rest when he needs it. Besides, it isn't Dazai's fault
that Sigma's in his bed when he needs sleep.

They're both still dressed in their work clothes, but Sigma's bones feel heavy, sinking them
further into the mattress until they're gone too.

Sigma startles awake, a dream alive at the edges of his memory. So real it takes him a
moment to remember where he is, for the blood to stop pounding in his ears.

His hands trace the sheets, looking for someone that isn't there. It isn't until his mind catches
up with the present that he remembers Dazai had been there with him and he isn't now, and
then the panic spikes tenfold, sending him straight into a sitting position. The bed is empty
now.

Dostoyevsky - Dostoyevsky could have gotten in. He must be in the apartment. He could be
anywhere, and that's all Sigma can think as he frantically flicks on the light and stares out
where there had once been darkness with wide, horrified eyes. "Dazai?" he croaks, breath
hitching when he hears nothing immediately. "Dazai?"

Then he hears noises, words being spoken, and the bedroom door swings open to reveal
Dazai walking in, his phone pressed to his ear. He's shed his vest, but other than that is still
dressed, albeit rumpled and messy. He looks at Sigma, sat up on the bed, and nods in his
direction to let him know he's ok.

"Alright," Dazai says into the phone. "Listen, I'm going now. No, later - we'll discuss it later.
I'm going now. Goodnight."

The device beeps, and Dazai lowers it to his side with a carefully neutral expression. Sigma's
chest tightens, and he holds his breath.

"Dostoyevsky is dead," Dazai tells them.

Dostoyevsky is dead.

"Don't lie to me," Sigma says calmly. "That's not funny, Dazai."

"I'm not lying," Dazai says, and he comes back over to sit in front of them on the bed, legs
crossed. "That was Ango on the phone. The Special Division hunted him down with their
best ability using agents and pinned him into one spot at about ten minutes past three this
morning. He was clearly injured beforehand, alone and desperate. No one knows what it was
he was trying to do, where he was trying to go, but it's likely he was attempting to return to
Yokohama. Maybe to kill you. Maybe to kill me."

He looks serious. Dazai sounds so much scarier when he's serious. But then he reaches out
and takes Sigma's hands in his own, forcing them to look up at his face. "He was killed about
twenty minutes ago. Being as physically weak as he was, and being completely unprotected,
he died easily. He didn't stand a chance."

It's starting to sink in now. Sigma feels sick, bile rising in his throat. Every inch of his skin
feels like it's being pricked by a thousand needles, and his lungs won't work at his command.
He falls forwards, forwards, into Dazai's waiting arms, laying his head against his neck and
shivering.

Weirdly, the panic subsides quickly and replaces itself with something lighter. Relief, Sigma
thinks. Like a weight has been physically removed from him.

"I don't know if I can believe it or not yet," Sigma mumbles, regardless. "Dostoyevsky is
crafty. I wouldn't put it past him to - to fake his death somewhere far away from where he
actually is so that he could escape the country without attracting the attention of the
authorities -"

"The Division has thought this through," Dazai interrupts, his voice instantly softer. "They
know the possibilities and the risks. Gogol's absence is suspicious enough, and they're
working on looking for him as well. But they're also currently analyzing the body. They have
Dostoyevsky's information from his time in Meursault. If it all matches, the possibility of
Dostoyevsky using some kind of body double like he's done in the past becomes less likely.
But if I'm being honest, Sigma - Dostoyevsky lost a lot when he was taken into custody. His
subordinates, his allies, a lot of his power. I think he really was desperate."

Sigma takes a deep, shaky breath, the logic pounding in his mind.

"I want to go back to sleep," they whisper. "It's too early in the morning for this."

Dazai bobs his head with determination. "Then let's sleep. We can talk about this when we
wake up, alright?"

The two of them lay side by side, this time facing each other directly. The gem on Dazai's
bolo tie shines, even after he reaches out and turns off the light, plunging them into near
perfect darkness.

Sigma presses his lips tightly together, suddenly pushing down the urge to cry like an idiot.
Everything that's happened in the past day has been so overwhelming and he's so tired. So
tired that he barely even registers when he shuffles forward and buries himself in Dazai's
chest, arms pulled close to him like he's hugging himself.

He does register when two warm arms come to rest around him, holding him in place.

Safety. Sigma enjoys this feeling. They never want it to end.

A warm light is what wakes him that morning, and Dazai is there in bed beside him.

He's still sleeping. Sigma, instead of taking the chance to sleep a little longer before their
alarm, decides instead to just watch Dazai, admiring the way his lips part slightly while he
breathes, the way his dark eyelashes flutter against his flushed cheeks, the way his hair falls
over his forehead in soft waves. He's beautiful. Sigma can admit that. He's known it to be true
since he first saw him in Meursault.

When the alarm goes off, Sigma has to suppress the urge to shout, especially when Dazai's
starts going off a second later. They think about shutting their eyes and pretending to sleep
again, but before they even can, Dazai's eyes open and he grins wickedly. "Like what you
see?" he asks cheekily, and Sigma goes red, realizing that Dazai was awake even before this
moment.

"Absolutely not," they mumble, rolling their eyes. "Turn off your alarm, I'm gonna have a
migraine in a minute."

They roll over without looking at Dazai's face to do the same, immediately missing the
warmth of the man's arms around them. But the silence that fills the room once both the
alarms are suppressed is worth it. Sigma sighs deeply, sinking back into the pillows, missing
the escape of sleep.

They don't know how much time passes while they drift halfway between sleep and
awareness, but they jolt back into themself when they hear Dazai leave the room. A few
minutes pass before he returns, and when he does he's smiling and holding two steaming
mugs in hand. "Tea," he says warmly. "I saw you bought in some hibiscus. How strange it is
that you did that when you never had before I mentioned it was my favourite, Sigma!"

Sigma laughs. They don't even bother trying to deny it. "Just in case you ever wanted any,"
they say, scratching the back of their neck sheepishly. "And it seems you did. My work has
paid off."

"Your work to convert me into being a tea drinker?" Dazai wonders, raising an amused
eyebrow. "It'll never happen. I'm just making an exception today."

He comes and sits next to Sigma again, pressing the mug into their hands. They give it a
quick sniff despite already being sure of what it'll contain, and they're right. They smile. "You
know, even if this is my favourite, I can't drink it all the time. Peppermint tea is supposed to
make you sleepy."

"Is that so?" Dazai says, taking a sip of his own fruity red drink. "Then I suppose it's a good
thing I also called Kunikida to let him know neither of us are coming in today."

"What?" Sigma cries, nearly dropping his mug.

"It's fine," Dazai insists, patting Sigma's knee. "Kunikida said he wasn't expecting you in
anyway. The rest of the agency are all aware of the situation with Dostoyevsky. And we all
know it's something that won't be easy for you especially."
Sigma relaxes and takes a breath, huffing out a laugh. "Oh, so you're staying off to make sure
I'm mentally well and not just because you don't want to go into work, I see. How sweet of
you, Dazai. I really appreciate your kindness."

Dazai strikes a pose with a V on his chin, grinning wide. "What can I say," he says smoothly.
"I'm just a wonderful guy. My positive energy is entirely unmatched."

They drink their tea.

"The results for Dostoyevsky's port mortem came back," Dazai tells him. His tone is a little
darker now. "His DNA, blood and fingerprints all matched the Dostoyevsky that was
apprehended at Meursault. It's almost impossible that he could have been using a body
double. It was really his body, meaning he really did die. It was him."

Sigma hums, suddenly feeling much heavier.

"It's up to you what you do next," Dazai says, as casually as if he were discussing the
weather. "I know you'll need time. But if you do choose to leave, if you do find something
you want to persue outside of Yokohama, I'd like to give you a gift first."

They perk up, suddenly interested. Dazai smirks, and leans over to set down his tea before
standing up again, stretching his arms. Sigma brings their mug to their lips, holding it there to
hide their face while they waits for Dazai to finish talking.

"In the Port Mafia," Dazai starts, and Sigma blinks with surprise at this unexpected sentence
starter. "We had a tradition that some of us partook in where, when you recruited someone
into the ranks of the mafia, you would give them something to prove they were your charge.
Usually, an item of clothing or a piece of jewelry, something they could wear to show that
they belonged to you. Now, of course, you don't belong to anyone in the world, not anymore,
and especially not me. But I had something I wanted to give you, since I did help you pass
your entrance exam, and I figured now was as good a time as ever."

He goes to the door and pauses for dramatic effect before grabbing his trench coat off the
hook at the back and swinging around to show Sigma with a grin.

"For you!" he says cheerily, waving the coat in his hands. "Since your old jacket got all
ruined, you can have this one to replace it! What do you think? Huh?"

Sigma just stares in stunned disbelief, trying to decide if this is a prank and if not, whether he
should say something about it.

Dazai suddenly laughs, breaking character and tossing the jacket behind him. "I'm kidding,
Sigma, I'm kidding! I know you'd never wear anything like that, god - the horror on your face
is so funny, haha! No, Sigma, I know you better, I know the kinds of fancy things you wear."

He returns to stand right in front of Sigma, leaving them to crane their head back and stare up
at him. Dazai's eyes are alight, something warm written all across his face. Slowly, he reaches
up to his own neck and undoes his bolo tie, pulling it over his head and bringing it
downwards to Sigma, tugging their hair out of its hold gently and pushing the gemstone up
around their neck.

"There," Dazai whispers. He crouches down so he's slightly lower than Sigma, staring up at
them with - admiration, that's what it is, it's admiration and wonder and joy. "It suits you
perfect."

Sigma's heart stutters, and he doesn't think before bringing his hands to Dazai's face and
pulling it closer, closer to him, until they meet in the middle and their lips brush together,
gentler than anything Sigma has ever known.

It takes a moment for the both of them to adjust to what they're doing, and then they fall into
a rhythm. Dazai's lips are dry and rough, but there's the taste of hibiscus left on them, fruity
and sweet and sugary. His breath tickles Sigma's cheek and he almost giggles, tilting forward
to take more and more, his hands sliding up Dazai's face to card through the soft ruffles of his
hair. The smell of coconut finds Sigma again and it sparks butterflies in his stomach, an
impossible warmth taking him over entirely. It feels like another jigsaw piece sliding into
place.

Sigma gasps softly against Dazai's lips and grabs his collar, pulling him off the floor and up
onto the bed beside them. A grin spreads across their face, and they feel Dazai doing the
same, laughing breathlessly. For a moment they linger there, foreheads pressed together. A
new understanding blossoming between the two of them.

"I've wanted to do that forever," Dazai whispers.

"Well, you didn't," Sigma whispers back. "I did. How long were you planning to wait to make
the first move?"

The detective shrugs, leaning back slightly to show off how his face has gone pink, lips
flushed. "I would have done it eventually."

Sigma kisses him again, and this time they push Dazai over, rolling on top of him and
laughing at the sight of Dazai underneath them, red and grinning. He's beautiful. Everything
about him is beautiful. One of Sigma's hands leaves Dazai's hair and comes down to clutch
the gem of the bolo tie around their neck. "This is really ok?" they ask, not sure which exact
thing they're referring to. "You're sure?"

"Do I look like I'm refusing?" Dazai says, eyes wide in disbelief. "I told you, I've wanted to
kiss you for a long time."

They stare at him, brushing their noses together just because they can.

"This is way better than whatever that was in Meursault," Sigma tells him.

Dazai looks surprised, then lets out a wheezy laugh, palming Sigma's face and running his
thumbs over his cheekbones. "That wasn't a kiss," he cackles, shaking his head. "You
basically passed out and couldn't breathe. I didn't want you to die after all the effort I was
going through to save you."
Sigma rolls his eyes and presses his lips to Dazai's again to shut him up.

"I have an announcement," Lucy shouts, and everyone turns to look at her.

She's actually standing on top of her chair, arms crossed across her chest and a serious
expression on her face. She's wearing a chequered black and purple dress with candy cane
tights today, making her the owner of the second most flashy outfit in the room next to
Sigma, who she can't seem to beat in terms of fashion these days. At the desk beside her,
Atsushi has his head in his hands, but even from here Sigma can see his ears have gone beet
red. He snorts, already sure of where Lucy is about to go with this.

"Wo-ow," Yosano drawls from the infirmary doorway where she'd wandered out at Lucy's
shout. "I do wonder what this could be about."

"Shush, you," Lucy says loudly with a pointed finger, and Sigma laughs out loud at this. He's
sure he'd never be able to speak to the doctor like that without getting scalped. "This
announcement isn't just about me! Atsushi, do you have anything you want to -"

"I'm not here," Atsushi groans, sinking even further into his seat.

"Piece of shit," Lucy shoots, looking exasperated before throwing his hands up. "Atsushi and
I are dating! That's all. You can get back to work now."

She jumps back down to the resounding applause of everyone in the room. A few people
cheer, and Ranpo puts his fingers in his mouth and lets out a long whistle. Kunikida
facepalms and leaves the room again, evidently deciding that there's no point trying to quell
them when they get like this. Sigma turns to Dazai with a knowing look. The detective raises
an eyebrow, shaking his head at the teen's antics even as he claps slowly with everyone else.

"Who could ever have predicted this?" Ranpo shouts, punching the air. "Not me, that's for
sure! You guys were just so subtle, even the greatest detective in the world couldn't have
figured it -"

"Hey, Ranpo?" Lucy interrupts, looking miffed. "Do you and Poe perhaps have an
announcement you'd like to give us all right now?"

Poe, from where he'd been sitting quietly the whole time, chokes on the swig he'd just taken
from his ramune bottle. Ranpo, however, doesn't even look slightly frazzled. He just quirks
up an eyebrow and pops his lips. "No-pe," he drags out. "Why, you think you noticed
something?"

"Oh, not a thing," Lucy says sarcastically. "Not the matching hickies on both your necks,
that's for sure -"

"Lucy," Poe coughs, running a hand down his face. "Please. Jesus."

"How about this," Ranpo says, taking his feet off the desk and sitting up a little straighter.
"Hey, Dazai, Sigma, do you two have an announcement for the rest of us?"
Sigma jumps at the sudden attention. Dazai, however, looks absolutely delighted, leaping to
his feet and pointing a finger at the sky. "Actually, we do!" he grins, sending Sigma's heart
into overdrive. "Sigma! My dear, wonderful Sigma!"

He mimics what Lucy had done and swings himself up onto Sigma's desk, crouched on his
knees before lifting one to his chest purposefully. The commotion this causes seems to be
enough to cause Kunikida to come racing back into the room, coughing and spluttering.
"What is going on?" he shouts, red in the face. "Dazai! Are you serious?"

Sigma rolls back in his desk chair, torn between laughing and attempting to sink into the floor
like Atsushi had done before. A quick glance across the room behind Dazai's shoulder tells
him that Atsushi is definitely grateful for the unintended distraction, shooting him a thumbs
up. Sigma sighs and looks back up at Dazai, into his glimmering eyes so bright with love, and
can't help but grin at the sight.

"Sigma," Dazai says seriously, clasping both his hands together in front of him. "Would you,
my partner in crime since we broke out of a high security prison together, give me the honour
of taking…"

He opens his hands and slides the bottom one out towards Sigma for him to take.

"My hand?" he finishes cheekily. "While we walk downstairs to the cafe for some
Montgomery Specials?"

Everyone in the room boos loudly as Sigma grabs the man's hand and squeezes it tight,
playing along despite his embarrassment. "Hmm," he ponders, grinning. "I suppose I would
have to say yes."

"He's not proposing!" Kunikida shouts, waving his hands as if anyone is paying any attention
to him. "Everybody resume your work! Dazai is not proposing - Naomi, Haruno, put your
phones down and get back to the front desk, what if someone comes in? This isn't a funny
matter, our reputation is hanging on by a very fine line! Everyone, quit your giggling! Is the
state of our agency a funny matter to you? Dazai! Sigma! You are both still working, sit back
down!"

"Taking my break!" Dazai sing-songs, waving with his free hand as he drags Sigma away.
"We're both taking our breaks, Kunikida, we'll be back in half an hour so there's no need to
worry about a thing!"

"Use protection," Ranpo calls, which earns him a direct hit on the skull from Kunikida
hurling a pen in his direction.

Dazai flips him off as they leave.

The second they're out the door, Dazai bringa Sigma's hand up to his mouth and presses a
gentle kiss to it, eyes still dancing with amusement and laughter. Sigma, exasperated, smiles
back at him. "Dick," he says fondly. "You could have warned me you were gonna pull a
stupid stunt."
"Well, Atsushi looked like he would have just died if I didn't do anything!" Dazai protests,
beginning to make the walk down the stairs. Neither of them so much as glance at the
elevator. "I was just looking out for my favourite protégé!"

"Oh, as if saving Atsushi was your main interest there," Sigma scoffs, squeezing Dazai's
hand. "You wanted to embarrass me and I don't want to hear another word about it. You are
paying for drinks. Don't start complaining, I'll go tell Kunikida who it was that swapped his
sugar and salt!"

Dazai gasps, mock-upset. "You monster! What an absolute fiend you are!"

Despite Sigma's words, they don't mean a word of it in a nasty sense. They know where they
stand with Dazai, now. It's only been a couple weeks and already the two of them are
working as a perfect unit, and everybody else seems to have recognized it. The sudden
change between them. Sigma doesn't mind it, not at all - they think it's a little funny to have
everybody guessing as to what they're doing behind closed doors. Even if Ranpo had guessed
it effectively straight away.

Being with Dazai hasn't brought anything entirely new into Sigma's life. They live together
the same as before, the only difference being that they eat meals together and Dazai plans to
get a double bed for the new accommodations when they get moved into them, hopefully
next week according to the Director. The thing that's changed the most, however, is within
Sigma themself. Something they haven't really voiced to anyone, something they don't know
how to.

All Sigma's life they've yearned for a home.

They've never had anything like it before. They've had a desert and a train ticket to nowhere
and men that wanted nothing but to hurt and use them, and they've had the Sky Casino, large
and beautiful and false as it was, full of numbered guests that Sigma was so desperate to
please. Even then, they were alone. Now, they have something. A group full of people that
like them and care about them and make them feel like they belong.

The Decay had been a means to an end. The agency feels more like a family than anything
they've been close to in three years of memory, and that means something to Sigma. It's not
just Dazai they're close to - Kunikida is strict but kind to them always, Ranpo asks their
opinion on whether a murder novel looks good enough to read or not, Lucy loves to talk with
them about everything and everything whenever they've got a spare minute to listen and
Atsushi invites them out to lunch almost every day to get sandwiches and tea. It'd taken
Sigma a while to understand what it all meant, what it all was. Why they felt so reluctant to
leave the agency despite not being fond of the work.

Home. That's what these people feel like to him.

That's what Dazai is to him, especially. Sigma has spent enough time and energy trying to
deny himself of that realization. He thinks he can let himself have it now.

Of course, Gogol is still on the loose, and as of now, the Special Division has been unable to
locate him. That's still a problem, not that Sigma truly believes the man would have reason to
hurt them or even come near them with Dostoyevsky's passing. Either way, Sigma hasn't
found a reason to leave just yet. They're still deciding what they want to do with their future,
and for now, the agency is a good place to stay.

Maybe they'll leave the agency after all, soon enough. Maybe they'll run away to America
and decide how they want to spend the rest of their life after they get there. It's not a priority
just yet. Now that Sigma is free to make their own decisions, they have all the time in the
world.

This is good enough for now. Maybe for the foreseeable future. They'll figure it out.

"Hey, are you good?" Dazai speaks up, giving Sigma's hand a squeeze to snap them back to
the present. "You zoned out for a minute there."

Sigma shoots him a smile. "Just thinking."

"You do that too much," Dazai tells them, making a face. "Take it from me, you're happier
when you don't use your brain at all."

"Uh huh," Sigma drawls. "As if you and Ranpo aren't the smartest at the agency. Oh, I was
meaning to ask you - you were talking to me about chess the other day and it got me
wondering if you'd ever played against Ranpo. I absolutely need to know. I can't imagine him
losing at anything."

Dazai cackles. "Oh, we did play, on one of my first weeks here! He was furious when I beat
him. I mean, he almost certainly knew about my history in the mafia then, and I truly worried
he was going to expose me to Kunikida out of spite. Sigma, you told me about the chess
tournament you supervised at the casino, you ought to challenge him and see what happens. I
just think it'd be the funniest thing in the world if you won against him too and he thought I
had something to do with it…"

Sigma runs his thumb along Dazai's knuckles, half listening, a secret smile forming across his
face.

Home. Sigma thinks it's their new favourite word.

End Notes

I KNOW THE SIGZAI UNDERWATER KISS DIDN'T HAPPEN I DIDN'T BELIEVE IT

DID I JUST LIKED IT! i hope u enjoyed this :3 btw the montgomery specials were a
reference to my other fic "red velvet and strawberry!" if u wanted to read :D oh and if u can
guess the name of the video game that dazai played with sigma u win a pat on the back

also I GOT A JOB WHILE I WAS WRITING THIS FIC I'M FINALLY NO LONGER THE
UNEMPLOYED MUTUAL! YAHOO!

ok anyway find me on twotter at @evllwizard meow meow

UPDATE: i got a commission of my silly guys by entereii on twitter! HERE IT IS!! go

support the original artist they're literally so cool! ok bye!

Please drop by the Archive and comment to let the creator know if you enjoyed their work!