Chuuya was keeping something from Dazai. It was honestly common knowledge in their marriage. Dazai knew Chuuya was keeping something from him, and Chuuya knew that Dazai knew, but Chuuya also knew that Dazai wouldn't push the topic unless it were necessary. The secret in question? Chuuya participates in illegal street races. What can he say? He likes cars and he's good at what he does.

Tonight, there was a street race that Chuuya has spent the last two days preparing his pink 1970 Nova SS for. And it was all going well until the police busted it. How, exactly, Chuuya doesn't know, but all he should really worry about is beating the cops and getting home. He'll need to hide his car and take off his plates, then he'll just have to hope that the cops don't catch which house he pulls into.

Of course, things can't just go well for Chuuya, because right as he's finishing with his car, there's a nock at his door. Fucking great. He hurries through the house slips into some sweatpants before shaking Dazai awake. The brunette stirs with a groan and looks up at Chuuya with a very clear, 'What the fuck do you want?' look on his face.

Chuuya gives a sheepish smile, "Osamu baby... take off your shirt... and your pants. You still have those hickeys from this morning, right?" Dazai just blinks at him in confusion and the doorbell rings again. Chuuya groans and all but forces the man into nothing but his boxers and bandages. "Now go be my alibi!" Chuuya shoves Dazai toward the door.

Thankfully, 'alibi' was all Dazai needed to hear to understand the assignment. He answers the door and plays innocent, even going as far as to look winded as he explains that his husband has been with him all night. The cops seem pleased enough and promptly leave. Dazai closes the door and Chuuya all but tackles him into a hug, smiling from ear to ear.

"Good job, baby! That was great!" He made sure to please, knowing it'll soften Dazai enough to not go too hard on his questions.