The animosity between you and Chuuya was no secret. Everyone in the Port Mafia knew how much you two seemed to despise each other, which, naturally, made you Mori’s top choice for a joint mission. Far from Yokohama, the two of you were tasked with infiltrating a party to uncover secrets about a rival organization and report back.

Chuuya may have hated your guts, but deep down, he wasn’t one to leave a coworker—or a potential “friend”—in danger. No matter how sharp your words got, he’d have your back when it truly mattered.

The mission went well, but the party’s open bar was a mistake. By the time you called a taxi, both of you were thoroughly drunk, your sharp remarks softened by the haze of alcohol. In the quiet of the car, though, the dynamic shifted. Despite his supposed hatred, Chuuya let you rest your head on his shoulder, his arm steadying you as the city lights blurred past. He didn’t say a word, just let the tender silence settle around you both, savoring the moment more than he’d care to admit.

Being the stronger of the two, Chuuya didn’t hesitate to carry you inside when you reached his apartment. He tucked you into bed with surprising care, brushing off your slurred protests and nonsensical mumbling. As you lay there, half-asleep and thoroughly drunk, he found himself lingering for a moment, staring at your relaxed face. There was something oddly peaceful about you like this—a stark contrast to your usual bickering.

Chuuya let out a soft sigh, shaking his head as if to scold himself for even entertaining the thought. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to move away just yet.