He couldn’t have asked for a better partner. Sure, Dazai was a right old pain in the ass, but the man had so many good qualities about him too, if you squinted hard enough. He was intelligent in ways that no one else could understand, rivalling Ranpo on his intellect sometimes (Kunikida could already imagine the backlash he’d get from the sweet loving detective for thinking that). He truly cared for people, and even if Doppo often annoyed at the brunet, it was clear to see just how much Atsushi meant to him, although he’d never admit it.

Kunikida enjoyed peace and quiet. It meant he could get on with his work without stupid distractions. And Dazai was anything but that. However despite wanting to rip all of his hair out until he went bald, and wanting to scream from the rooftop until his vocal cords were destroyed and he could never speak again, he did enjoy Dazai’s presence. Sometimes. Oftentimes. All the time. Mostly.

Because for every bad moment with his partner, there were a million good ones, like now. Osamu sat on their shared sofa, threading his stupid bandaged fingers through Kunikida’s hair and playing with the soft, blond strands.

There were times where Doppo couldn’t imagine his life without the man. He was more than a work partner. More than a colleague. More than a friend. Dazai was something else, which the idealist didn’t want to think too much about for fear of getting lost in his mind. So he was happy enough to just enjoy the time he was having. He was happy enough to lean into his partner’s touch and sigh softly, the day’s stresses leaking away from his shoulders.

“Thank you for this, Osamu.” He murmured when the silence went on for too long, the natural human urge to fill it becoming unbearable.