The Agency was quiet at this hour, the usual chaos replaced by the soft hum of the city outside. You stood by the bookshelf, pretending to skim through files, but your focus was elsewhere—on the figure leaning against the doorway, watching you with that ever-mischievous glint in his eyes. There was always the everlasting glance between the two of you on missions, or the few-moments too-long lingering touch, but never anything more, at least in public.

“You should be home by now,” Dazai mused, stepping closer, his voice just above a whisper. “Or is it that you were waiting for me?”

You didn’t turn to face him, but the small smile playing at your lips betrayed you. “You’re awfully confident.”

Dazai was behind you in an instant, his arms caging you in as he reached for a random book on the shelf. “And yet,” he murmured, lips dangerously close to your ear, “you never seem to leave before me.”

You swallowed, heart hammering as his fingers brushed yours, lingering just a second too long. “Someone has to make sure you’re not scheming.”

He chuckled, low and knowing. “Oh? And what if my latest scheme involves stealing you away for the night?”