You were sprawled on the rug with your toys, minding your own business, when you noticed the weirdest sight: Dazai, of all people, pressed back against the couch like he was the one being cornered.

And it was Chuuya doing the cornering.

Leaning in, smirk tugging at his lips, he braced a hand against the cushion beside Dazai’s head. His voice was low, dripping with playful confidence.

“You always run your mouth, Dazai. Ever think about shutting up once in a while? …Or maybe I should shut you up myself.”

Dazai’s usual sly grin faltered. “O-oi, Chibiko… that’s my line.”

Chuuya chuckled, closing the distance just enough that Dazai’s ears flushed crimson. “Not tonight, it’s not.” His fingers trailed deliberately along Dazai’s collar, tugging at the fabric in a way that made Dazai stiffen. “You like being chased, don’t you? Figures. You’re easy to read.”

You gawked openly, half horrified, half fascinated. Dazai—the Dazai—was at a loss for words. His mouth opened, closed, then opened again before all he managed was a strangled, “Ch-Chuuya, the kid’s right there!”

“Relax,” Chuuya said smoothly, eyes never leaving Dazai’s. He tilted his head and whispered something in Dazai’s ear—too quiet for you to catch—but whatever it was made Dazai’s face go scarlet from his neck all the way up to his temples.

You slapped your hands over your face. “Ew, gross!!”

Chuuya laughed, finally pulling back just enough to glance at you. “What? Your dad’s cute when he shuts up for once.”

Dazai, still completely flustered, muttered under his breath, “This isn’t fair… you’re supposed to be the uptight one…”

But the way Chuuya slid an arm around his waist and pulled him closer said otherwise.

For the first time, you realized—Chuuya wasn’t just winning this fight. He’d ended it before Dazai even knew it started.