Chapter Text
Lately, all the furniture in the Armed Detective Agency has looked like it had suffered quite a beating. All of the swivel chairs had the stuffing ripped out of them, as did their normal booth in the agency café. There were claw marks on wall corners, bites taken out of stacks of paper, and messes made in every room.
An outsider would have assumed that some sort of incident took place. Perhaps the agency had been attacked, or some wild animal got loose inside. It’s quite the opposite, really.
“We’ve gotta do somethin’ about those munchers of yours, pal.” Dazai crossed his arms across his chest, frowning at Atsushi where he was perched under a table. Ranpo had chivalrously given up a collection of his candy stash to try and keep the beast satiated, but there was little candy could do against this certain predicament.
Atsushi growled under his breath as he chewed straight though a green Jolly Rancher. The sound of him chewing the hard candy that was supposed to be deliciously savored made a shudder course up Dazai’s spine. The gray-haired boy shrugged helplessly in response to Dazai’s statement, digging around in the near-empty bag of Jolly Ranchers for another.
“I don’t know what to do either,” Atsushi grumbled, his tongue stained green. “It hurts. When can I take more ibuprofen?”
“In three hours.” Dazai scratched his head, utterly stumped. He never had to deal with a complication such as this in the Port Mafia. “But chewing on things makes it feel better?”
Atsushi nodded profusely, crunching down on another Jolly Rancher. “Yeah. It takes the pressure off of them.” He bared his teeth, finally showing Dazai the source of all this commotion.
Wickedly sharp canines were poking through Atsushi’s gums. When Atsushi’s normal human canines fell out unexpectedly a few days ago, he had been an inconsolable mess. He thought he was getting old and he was going to need dentures. But upon an examination from Yosano, she had diagnosed him with a new set of canines.
“New? ” Atsushi had exclaimed, looking between Yosano and Dazai. “What do you mean new?”
“Your teeth are probably responding to the normalization of your weretiger form,” Dazai had guesstimated. “Since you’ve been using it more often, your physical body outside of your transformation wants to respond to it. You’re growing weretiger fangs.”
Dazai leaned dangerously close to Atsushi’s fangs, sticking out his bottom lip as he examined them. “Those are some chompers, Atsushi. Maybe we can file them down.”
“Hey!” Atsushi scrambled backwards, knocking his head against the back of the desk. “No! No filing my teeth!” He rifled around in the Jolly Rancher bag, but finding nothing, he shoved his fingers into his mouth and nibbled on his cuticles.
“Hey, ah, ah, no nail biting,” Dazai chided, pulling Atsushi’s slobbery hand out of his mouth. The boy’s nail beds were already destroyed—red and chapped and peeling. He frowned at them, and then up at Atsushi.
“You’re gonna have no nails if you keep this up.”
“You’re one to talk,” Atsushi grumbled. “If it was painless, you’d be doing it, too.”
Dazai sat down in front of him, getting down on his level to look at him square in the face. “Listen. You can’t fix all this by eating candy and chewing your fingers down to stubs. You need a permanent solution until your fangs grow in.”
“And so what are you suggesting?”
Dazai tapped the side of his head, deep in thought. His eyelids fluttered like they did when he was analyzing a problem. Finally his eyes lit up, and a mischievous grin spread across the detective’s face. He jumped to his feet and ran down the hall, rushing down the stairs, through the cafe and out the front door—just in time to catch Kunikida by the sleeve as he was walking out.
The blond detective turned around with a scowl on his face, obviously miffed that Dazai was throwing a wrench in his perfect schedule. “What do you want, Dazai?”
Dazai gave him his best puppy-dog eyes, squeezing his hand. “Do you have time for an extra stop on your way home from running errands? I have a special request.”
“Is this some sort of sick joke, Dazai?!”
Atsushi’s wail of fury was like a blast sent throughout the whole agency building, buffeting everyone backwards and causing them to look up from their work, eyes wide. Atsushi had arrived at his desk for the day, and spotting the wrapped box on his desk, had opened it, expecting a lovely present.
Atsushi turned around, brandishing a brightly colored rubber ring in Dazai’s general direction, face flushed red. “Are you serious? Teething toys?! ”
Dazai’s face split into a crooked grin, and he quickly hid it behind a bandaged hand. “Listen—they’re going to help you—”
“Help me my ass! ” The rubber ring clocked Dazai squarely between the eyes, and he squawked like a bird as he fell on his ass in a flurry of papers.
Atsushi sat down with a huff at his desk, examining the toys Dazai had gotten him. They’re all brightly colored, rubber toys meant for babies to use for teething. Mostly rubber rings, rubber balls, and—was that a fucking pacfier?
Atsushi growled and let his forehead thunk against the wood of his desk. Away from the prying eyes of the rest of his coworkers, he munched down on a rubber ring. It wasn’t nearly as sweet as Ranpo’s candy, but it lessened the aching in his gums. Not that he would ever tell Dazai that.
“You are drooling.”
“I am not. ”
Akutagawa’s eyes narrowed as Atsushi tried to subtly wipe a dribble of drool from the corner of his mouth. Atsushi’s face was pink, and he shifted uncomfortably in the vinyl cafe booth.
“Are you that hungry?” Akutagawa stirred his black coffee absentmindedly, narrowing his eyes. “Just order something. It’s the agency’s cafe, after all.”
“I’m not hungry,” Atsushi mumbled. “It’s just—something else.”
“What? Are you drooling over my extravagantly good looks?”
“Ew. Of course not, asshole.” Atsushi drank a large gulp of his water in an attempt to flush most of his saliva down his throat. “So, how has your pacifism been going?”
Akutagawa scowled. “It’s been. Fine. It’s a large change from my normal work, so it’s taken some getting—and you’re fucking drooling again.”
Atsushi looked up from where he was cupping a puddle of drool in his hand to make sure it didn’t dribble onto his lap. His cheeks flushed pink once more, and he grabbed his napkin to hastily clean up the mess.
“S-Sorry. Keep going.”
“What’s wrong with you?” Akutagawa leaned forward a millimeter. “Are you sick or something? Catch a cold on one of your missions?”
“I’m not sick! It’s just–” Atsushi fumbled for an excuse, but came up with nothing. He didn’t have lightning-fast lying reflexes like Dazai or Ranpo. “Argh. This is so embarrassing.”
“Surely not as embarrassing as drooling all over the table.” Akutagawa leaned back and took a sip of his coffee, raising one nonexistent eyebrow.
Atsushi sighed, defeated, and leaned his arms on the table. “Okay, fine, you win. Ever since I’ve started using my weretiger form more frequently, I’ve had physical changes to my body outside of my transformation. I can withstand more damage than normal, I can heal faster, and my sense of smell has been heightened. But more recently…”
He pulled his lips back, revealing the canines poking through his swollen gums. “Thith hath been happening.”
Akutagawa leaned forward to see, frowning as he examined the new teeth. “You’re growing weretiger fangs?”
“That’s what Mr. Dazai said,” Atsushi sighed, closing his mouth and sucking on his inner cheek. “He went out and bought a bunch of baby teething toys for me earlier. Look!” Atsushi rummaged through his bag before throwing a few of the rubber rings down on the table. All of them had already been chewed into unrecognizable lumps. “This is just ridiculous!”
To Atsushi’s utter amazement, Akutagawa’s face split into a smile, and he laughed. He threw his head back and he laughed, a laugh that was full-chested and genuine and so irrevocably Akutagawa. Because it sounded like a dying bird, and Atsushi’s never heard him laugh like this before.
“This is ridiculous,” Akutagawa wheezed once he could speak again. “The weretiger, handicapped by mere baby toys!”
“Hey!” Atsushi snarled, teeth flashing. “I don’t know what else to do! They hurt coming in, and I can either chew my fingers down to stubs or use these stupid things!”
Akutagawa coughed, recovering from his laughing fit as a small smile still played on his cracked lips. “So you need a solution for your teething problem. Is that what you’re saying?”
“I never said I needed a permanent solution. I just sure as hell don’t want to use baby toys.”
Before Akutagawa could realize what he was saying, the words were tumbling out of his mouth and into the air between them: “Use Rashoumon.”
Akutagawa slapped his hand over his mouth so hard it stung. Atsushi’s mouth fell open, his ears going slightly pink as he processed what the raven-haired boy said.
“Excuse me?”
Akutagawa’s face was bright red under his hand. “I didn’t say anything.”
“Did you just suggest that I teethe on Rashoumon? ”
“I said nothing of the sort, Weretiger!”
Akutagawa bolted to his feet, storming out of the cafe with a sort of dark cloud all around him. Cursing under his breath, Atsushi scrambled out of the booth seat and ran after him. There’s no way that anemic son of a bitch was getting away from him after a statement like that .
Atsushi finally corners him in a dim alleyway, one that they often used for their sparring matches monitored by Dazai. Atsushi’s familiar with the rusted dumpsters and the broken fire escape along the wall—but it’s a dead end. How did Akutagawa think he was going to get away here?
Akutagawa was standing with his back to Atsushi, dimly illuminated by a dying streetlight up above. His hands were shoved deep in his pockets, and was he…shaking?
“Akutagawa,” Atsushi gasped, leaning over to catch his breath. “C’mon, man. Why do you walk so damn fast?”
When he looked up again, Akutagawa was looking at him. His face was still flushed red, and his lips were pressed tightly together. He looked like…he looked like he wanted to say something. But he didn’t know how. Atsushi straightened up, running his tongue along the inside of his teeth.
“Did you mean it back there?” He spoke into the musty air. “That I could use Rashoumon?”
Akutagawa seemed to puff up like a cat, and looked away, puffing out his cheeks. “I—I guess I just figured that—since our abilities compliment each other…Rashoumon could be something you wouldn’t easily be able to destroy with your teeth. But—It was just…”
He trailed off, not able to find the words to justify his actions. He glanced over at Atsushi, looking like a kicked puppy waiting for forgiveness. Atsushi swallowed thickly, his heartbeat hammering in his ears.
“I don’t think it’s a bad idea,” he said slowly. “We could…we could at least try it.”
Akutagawa’s face blooms red at the same time that Atsushi blushes pink. “Are—Are you sure? It was just a simple suggestion—”
“Candy and baby toys aren’t doing it for me,” Atsushi said, taking a step towards Akutagawa. “And I’m willing to bite on anything to get this damn pressure off my gums.”
Akutagawa’s eyes darkened, and after a moment of silence, a single word escaped his lips: “Rashoumon.”
Rashoumon emerged from his coat with a screech, maw open wide and dripping with red ooze. When it saw that it was just Atsushi standing there, it gave a confused little squeak, and turned back to look at Akutagawa. The raven-haired boy nodded, and Rashoumon extended to hover right in front of Atsushi’s face, baring the glowing, shifting black essence before him.
“Well. Go ahead,” Akutagawa said. “I don’t know how it tastes.”
“Will it hurt you if I bite it?” Atsushi said nervously, suddenly hesitant. After being thrown around by Rashoumon far too many times, just biting into the beast’s shifting surface made him queasy.
Akutagawa scowled. “No. Of course not. Now bite it or I’m leaving.”
Atsushi pursed his lips, and looked back down at Rashoumon. He opened his mouth, a bit of saliva dripping from his teeth, and sank them down into Rashoumon’s body.
Rashoumon was surprisingly rubbery and tasted like…charred steak. Not the best taste in the world, but it wasn’t revolting either. After the initial shock of the taste and texture, Atsushi grasped it more firmly with his teeth, sinking them down. Rashoumon was firm, not easily torn, and wouldn’t let Atsushi slice through its tough body with his sharpened teeth. He growled under his breath as he gnashed his teeth against it, trying in vain to have his teeth connect to no avail.
“Be careful.” Akutagawa’s quiet voice cut through Atsushi’s focus on his task, and he looked up, probably looking like an idiot with the glowing red black ribbon between his teeth, slobbering all over it. His eyes met Akutagawa’s, and he was surprised to see that the assassin’s face was…serene. He was staring at Atsushi biting down on his beast like he was admiring a painting in a museum.
Akutagawa’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “The edges are sharp. Don’t cut your lips.”
Atsushi swallowed, and nodded to the best of his ability, focusing back on gnawing on Rashoumon. His teeth already felt better. This wasn’t at all like the candy or the rubber toys—the candy had been too hard, the baby toys had been too soft. He was like Goldilocks finding the baby bear’s porridge—Rashoumon was just right.
He had no idea how long he was standing in that dim alleyway, slobbering on his archrival’s special ability like he was a dog chewing on a bone. It may have been a few minutes or a few days; time blurred from the sheer relief that sinking his teeth into Rashoumon brought him. He was only brought back into reality when Rashoumon dragged against the corners of his lips, drawing blood, and Akutagawa’s voice cut through his foggy mind: “Alright, that’s enough.”
Atsushi squawked around Rashoumon, his teeth still attached to the ribbon as Akutagawa retracted it. He was too frazzled to try and pull away, and so he was yanked towards Akutagawa by Rashoumon. Atsushi yelped as he collided with Akutagawa’s back, the force of it dislodging his teeth from Rashoumon as he tumbled into the assassin’s back. His open mouth collided messily with the back of Akutagawa’s neck, and he made a muffled, horrified sound as he tasted coppery blood on his teeth.
Akutagawa tensed underneath his teeth, and Atsushi braced his hands against the back of Akutagawa’s shoulders to yank his teeth out of his neck. Blood spurted out of the teeth-mark wound, and Atsushi stared down at it in horror.
“Holy shit—Akutagawa—I’m so fucking sorry, Rashoumon pulled me, I didn’t mean—”
Akutagawa silenced him by reaching behind him and grabbing his wrist, holding him in place as the assassin slowly turned around. Akutagawa’s bloodshot eyes were wide, and his cheeks were once again stained red with a flush.
“Atsushi.” His voice was strained. “Can you…do that again?”
Atsushi’s eyes bulged, and his mouth fell open. “What? ”
With his free hand, Akutagawa pulled up the sleeve of his coat, revealing a ghost-pale, bony arm. Akutagawa lifted it up towards Atsushi’s face, staring up at him with hooded eyes.
“Bite me again,” he said huskily. “Please.”
Atsushi blinked, but knew better than to go against Akutagawa’s wishes. He leaned down and sank his teeth into Akutagawa’s thin skin, feeling blood rush into his mouth. His canines sank into his skin like butter, and glancing up at Akutagawa, he watched his face transform into something beautiful. Akutagawa’s eyelashes fluttered, and huffy little breaths escaped his chapped lips as Atsushi gnawed on his arm. Once Atsushi deemed the bite deep enough, he pulled away, and bit down into the slightly meatier part of his arm, closer to his elbow.
Akutagawa gasped, a little groan escaping his lips. He glanced down at Atsushi, face dark red in the dim alleyway light, and crushed his front teeth against his lips.
Damn. That was kind of hot.
After three minutes, Akutagawa’s forearm looked like he had been mauled by a dog—but Atsushi refused to be done. He pulled away from the last bite mark on Akutagawa’s wrist, panting through his bloodstained teeth, and grabbed the front of Akutagawa’s jacket, sliding it off of his shoulders. Akutagawa, whose head was tipped back just a moment ago, looked back down at him with bloodshot eyes.
“A-Atsushi?”
“I want—I want more of you,” Atsushi growled, pausing his advances with Akutagawa’s jacket pooled around the man’s elbows. “Let me bite you—everywhere.”
Akutagawa’s eyes glinted, and he nodded frantically, shaking off his jacket and unbuttoning his shirt. He left it open, and Atsushi’s hands were immediately on his stomach, gawking at his frame.
It was no secret that Akutagawa was skinny, but with clothes no longer bulking him up, he looked even smaller. Atsushi could count every one of his ribs, even stick a few fingers underneath them if he wanted. His collarbones were like sticks shallowly buried in the sand, and running his hands along Akutagawa’s back, he felt the jutting form of his shoulder blades, sticking up like wings out of his skeleton.
Akutagawa brought his shaky hands up to Atsushi’s shoulders, leaning back against the brick wall. For the first time since they started, Atsushi had a moment of clarity; Akutagawa probably hadn’t been this vulnerable in front of someone in a long time. The thought alone must terrify him. Atsushi reached up and gently tucked a stray hair behind his ear, causing Akutagawa to startle and stare at him with wide eyes.
“I’m not gonna—” Atsushi’s ears turned pink. “I’m not going to…do anything you don’t want. I promise. I’ll only bite you. And you can say stop whenever you want.”
Akutagawa visibly relaxed, his shoulders slackening. “Th…Thank you,” he whispered, shifting his hold on Atsushi’s shoulders. He seemed to be bracing for whatever rampage Atsushi was about to paint across his skin. And Atsushi couldn’t wait to taste his blood again.
Leaning forward, Atsushi pressed his lips against Akutagawa’s throat, feeling his pulse jumping erratically like a rabbit’s. A little thrill coursed through Atsushi’s veins, and he grinned. Him, making Akutagawa nervous. Making him shake. Tasting his blood on his tongue. Atsushi was a man possessed, like a vampire going in for the kill.
Licking his lips, Atsushi sank his teeth into the pale skin of Akutagawa’s neck.
“Jesus Christ on a bike,” Chuuya sputtered. “What the fuck happened to you?”
Akutagawa pulled his coat a little tighter around himself, wishing his high collar could do more to cover the bite marks and the bruises. It couldn’t hide the bites left right on top of his thyroid cartilage or the ones creeping up onto his jawbone. Neither could he hide the marks peeking out of his sleeves onto his hands.
Chuuya was gaping at him like a fish out of water. Goddammit, Akutagawa had been trying to get to his room without incident.
“Was part of my mission,” Akutagawa mumbled. “Bunch of dogs.”
“Dogs my ass,” Chuuya swore. “Those are human teeth marks! Who the hell were you hooking up with on the job?”
“I was not!” Akutagawa shouted, eyes flashing. “Unlike you, I have some dignity while I am still in uniform!”
Chuuya’s freckled face went red, and he puffed out his cheeks. “Well, if you’re gonna sleaze around while on company time, at least let me tell you how to clean yourself up before you get home.”
“What, are you an expert in that or something?”
“Shut up, smartass! Do you want me to help you hide this from Higuchi or not?”
Akutagawa cringed. If Higuchi saw him in this state, he’d never hear the end of it. He’d be in Higuchi-enforced isolation for months.
“Fine. Tell me what to do.”
Chuuya grinned, something akin to a shark baring its teeth before the kill. He clapped Akutagawa on the shoulder and steered him down the hall, Akutagawa cringing under his grip.
“Alright, I’ll tell you the trade secrets,” Chuuya lamented as if he was being forced to give up something valuable. He fixed Akutagawa with a knowing stare. “There’s a special procedure for recovering from an encounter with an Armed Detective Agency paramour.”
Akutagawa sputtered. “I wasn’t–”
“Lie all you want, buddy, but Dazai filled me in on his little kitty’s predicament.” Chuuya waggled a finger at the bite marks. “And those canines I see seem to line up pretty well with his description.”
Akutagawa was going to die of shame in this damn hallway, in front of goddamned Chuuya Nakahara of all people. “We’re not—we’re not like that. It’s an exchange. Atsushi gets to bite Rashoumon and I to help alleviate the pain from his canines coming in.”
“But an exchange has two sides.” Chuuya gave him a withering side-eye. “So what are you getting out of it?”
Akutagawa pressed his lips together so tight they turned white. Nope, this asshole wasn’t getting that out of him.
A sleazy smile spread across Chuuya’s face, and Akutagawa reasoned that he answered Chuuya’s question anyways. They were silent as they walked into Chuuya’s room, the executive locking the door firmly behind them.
“So what did you mean when you said you and the Weretiger weren’t like that?” Chuuya asked as he rummaged around in a few cabinets. Akutagawa sat down heavily in an armchair, gloomily staring at the floor.
“We’re not…We’re not doing this because of…gratification.” At least, not on Atsushi’s end. Or so Akutagawa reasoned. “This isn’t like you and Dazai. There’s…something between you and Dazai. That’s why you’ve kept seeing him even after he left the Port Mafia.”
Chuuya stopped searching through the cupboard, hands stilling. He didn’t respond, and Akutagawa took a deep breath before continuing.
“I don’t love him, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Love. Ugh, Akutagawa felt vile just speaking it aloud. He couldn’t ever love anyone—even Atsushi. Atsushi with his perfect smile and crooked teeth. Atsushi who had a stammer on his o- sounds when he talked too fast. Atsushi who purred when he was warm. Atsushi whose laugh was like springtime and lemonade. Atsushi who was sent into a stupidly adorable euphoria whenever his scalp was itched. Atsushi who couldn’t resist the offer of candy. Atsushi who always tried to help everyone and everything, whether it be a child with a bomb strapped to their chest or a housecat stuck in a tree. Atsushi who was brighter than Betelgeuse, warmer than the sun, more complex and amazing and beautiful than the universe—
“But you do.”
Akutagawa looked up at Chuuya, who was standing across from him with his arms folded across his chest. His normal choices of expressions—a pissed off-scowl or a cocky smile—were gone, replaced by one Akutagawa almost never saw. Solemn resignation. He was staring at the floor, working his bottom lip between his teeth.
“You do love him.” Chuuya looked up to meet his eyes. “You love him but you can’t get close enough to touch him. Because you know if you do, the universe will shatter into a million pieces, pieces so tiny that you can’t hope to pick them back up and put them back together.”
Akutagawa’s bottom lip trembled. “What…are you talking about?”
Chuuya’s neck flexed as he swallowed. “He’s out of reach, Akutagawa. He’s a shooting star you wished on too late. You can’t hold onto lightning for more than a few seconds.”
Akutagawa could feel his heartbeat pounding in his ears, louder than it had ever been. “Then…Then how? How do you and Dazai work?”
“We don’t.” Chuuya spat into the trashcan nearby. “We’re as toxic and dysfunctional as a nuclear power plant. We meet once a week to get everything out of our systems, and then we try to forget it happened on the walk home.”
The shoulders of Akutagawa’s coat tightened as he hunched his shoulders. “But we’re not you. We’re not you and Dazai.”
“Aren’t you?” Chuuya narrowed his eyes. “Aren’t we just two Port Mafia executives pining endlessly for stupid, boneheaded detectives too far out of our reach?”
Akutagawa huffed out of his nose. He pulled his coat closer around himself—the room wasn’t this cold when he first came in, was it?
Chuuya let his hands fall to his sides, and turned back around the return to the cupboard. “I’m not telling you that you can’t see him. What I’m telling you is that…you two can’t ever be anything.”
The executive’s words stung, and Akutagawa shrank into himself. He stared down at the bite mark peeking out of his sleeve. It was a mark that Atsushi had touched him all over, that Atsushi had tasted his blood and held him against his own body. It was a mark that Akutagawa was Atsushi’s. What could Chuuya say to that?
Akutagawa pursed his lips and clenched his fists. If he couldn’t catch lightning in his hands, he was going to find a bottle—and catch the brightest, most beautiful bolt of lightning he could find.