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Chuuya, wearing a fancy grey suit that totally counts as normal-person clothes, barges into the Armed Detective Agency without knocking and heads straight for Oda’s desk. The older man blinks at him, the bags under his eyes more obvious than normal, then sighs and nods to the free chair by the wall.
“Figured you’d be around today,” Oda says as Chuuya drags the chair over to sit next to the detective.
“Any chance you need help at home? I could sleep on your couch.”
Oda shakes his head. “Trust me, you don’t want to. The kids are wild this time of year.”
“Still better than the alternative.” Chuuya notes Oda’s eyebags again, then the empty mug on the desk. “I can go get you another coffee, if you want.”
“No, I’m trying to cut back. But thank you for the offer.”
“Suit yourself. What are we working on today?” Chuuya leans in closer to peer at the detective’s computer monitor. He skims the screen, humming thoughtfully. Missing persons case. A kid. Didn’t return home three nights ago and hasn’t been seen since. Last spotted on a security camera leaving her job at a café.
Oda clears his throat. “Chuuya, have you met Atsushi? He joined recently.”
“I’ve been here a few months now,” the kid — ah, the weretiger. Chuuya has heard about him — protests.
“Nice to meet you officially,” Chuuya says, nodding politely to the kid. “I’m Chuuya. I’m… a seasonal ADA employee.”
Next to him, Oda snorts.
Atsushi’s eyebrows draw together. “That’s a thing? Huh. Is it because of the increased crime rate around holidays?”
“Sure. That sounds reasonable. He’s your field partner, right?” Chuuya directs his question to Oda, who nods.
“Kunikida and I drew straws for him.”
“Ah. That’s why I’ve seen Kunikida going around town with Kenji.”
“Yeah.”
They fall into an easy silence as Oda goes through the report so Chuuya can read over his shoulder and get caught up on all the details. Atsushi, the trusting soul that he is, doesn’t bother them and is instead taking careful notes as he reads over the case files again too.
Then Chuuya’s phone rings. He ignores it. It rings again and he hits the lovely red X that pops up on the screen.
“You didn’t block him yet?” Oda asks, clearly amused.
“Oh, I did. Unfortunately, that doesn’t matter much.” Chuuya sighs and declines yet another call. “Plus, I’ve already blown through my new phone budget this year. So can’t break this one until the new year.”
“You have a phone budget?” Atsushi perks up. “Can I have a phone budget, Oda? Kyouka says my flip phone is too broken to use.”
Chuuya and Oda exchange a glance.
“Sorry, Atsushi. The ADA doesn’t have phone budgets for anyone.”
“Let me know what model you want and I’ll buy it for you.”
They exchange another glance. Apparently they were not on the same page the first time.
“Don’t worry,” Chuuya adds when the kid gapes at him. “I’m rich.”
The door swings open and his third-favourite agency member strolls in. “Did my ears hear correctly? Is dear Chuuya offering to buy us gifts?”
“Hey Yosano.” He waves. “The kid has a flip phone. That’s practically a crime, so I’m doing my job as a humble seasonal detective and am solving that problem.”
“Fair.” Yosano comes over and sits on the edge of Oda’s desk. The detective doesn’t mind; that space is left clear of papers for a reason. “So, what is it this time?”
Chuuya eyes her. She should know by now why he is an unofficial detective around holidays. “It’s the twenty-fourth.”
“Yep. Glad to know you can read a calendar. If you see your sister’s calendar and any free time she has—”
“Of December,” Chuuya continues, talking over Yosano. This is hardly the first time she has not-so-subtly asked to be set up with Kouyou. No matter how much Chuuya likes Yosano, no one is good enough for his sister. “You know how he gets around holidays. I’m not going back until the twenty-seventh. At least.”
“Good luck with that.” Yosano snorts, far too amused by Chuuya’s seasonal pain. “But hey, I won’t complain. Pretty sure Ranpo has been saving some tasks for you to do, so chat with him later, okay?”
“Sure, will do.”
Oda stands up, signalling that their chatting time is over. Atsushi rushes to follow, nearly tripping over his belt. Chuuya stares at the fashion disaster for a long moment, wondering who let the poor kid dress like that.
“So, after this, we’re going shopping,” Chuuya declares.
“Sounds good,” Oda nods. “I haven’t finished buying presents yet.”
“Really? It’s Christmas Eve.”
“Yeah, but Kosuke and Yu won’t tell me what they want this year.”
The three of them file out of the agency and set off to begin detective-ing. Chuuya conveniently forgets his phone on Oda’s desk.
Two hours later, they’ve found the missing girl. The man that kidnapped her is unconscious with a blackened eye and broken jaw. All they need to do now is wait for the police to show up, which is always fun.
Atsushi is staring at Chuuya with open shock.
“What?” He didn’t even use his ability. Just decked the guy on instinct.
“You took him down so fast! How’d you do that?”
“I have lots of practice beating people up,” Chuuya comments idly. He is preoccupied checking his gloves to make sure there are no blood splatters on them. These things are a nuisance to clean.
“Wow. I know this is probably overstepping my boundaries, but you should totally work at the agency fulltime! You and Oda worked so well together, the case was solved so fast, and you seem like a really good fighter!”
“Thanks kid,” Chuuya pats the weretiger’s shoulder. The kid’s dual colour eyes go wide. “I appreciate the compliment. But unfortunately, I have another job that I’m stuck with.”
The police cruiser rolls up before Atsushi can comment on Chuuya’s other job. The officers get out of the vehicle. There are three of them: two Chuuya recognizes and one new kid.
The officers he knows, Hali and Murada, both see him standing next to Oda and grimace. Offended, Chuuya gestures at his grey suit. They exchange a look then nod.
“That time of the year again, huh?”
“Unfortunately,” Chuuya agrees. Moving it along quickly, he adds, “Credit for this one goes to Atsushi.”
The kid startles. “Huh? Why? I didn’t do much.”
“Your nose helped a lot more than you think.” Chuuya pats his shoulder again and silently vows to keep this innocent kid away from the vultures in his life. Too innocent and too easy. It’s obvious the kid already trusts Chuuya and they’ve only known each other for less than three hours.
“Sounds good,” Officer Murada says, taking out a small notepad to jot down the details of this case that will be reported.
The new guy tugs on Officer Hali’s sleeve, shooting suspicious looks at Chuuya.
“Don’t worry,” he says before the cops can explain, “I’m on vacation. Grey suit. No hat.”
The kid’s eyes go wide and he pales a bit, stepping back. Guess he was hoping his suspicions would be waved aside, not confirmed.
“Chill out, Namu. If Nakahara is with an agent from the Armed Detective Agency, then we ignore him.”
“But—”
“I wouldn’t really recommend it, but you can try to arrest me when I have my hat on,” Chuuya offers.
Atsushi whips around to stare at him. “Why would they want to arrest you?” The kid asks, puzzled.
Oh. Oh dear. Chuuya exchanges a look with Oda, who seems equally surprised. Guess the kid really didn’t know who he was. Chuuya kind of thought Atsushi was just being nice.
“You’re serious?” He can’t help asking. “You actually don’t know me?”
“Um. No? Should I?”
Chuuya sighs. “It’s fine. Well, maybe not super fine considering you’ve already dealt with people like Akutagawa and should probably know who I am because of that whole thing, but it’s not that big of a deal.”
“He’s the Port Mafia Boss’s right hand!” The new cop blurts, pointing an accusatory finger.
“Not right now. I already said I’m on holiday break. Seasonal detective, remember?”
“Y-you work with Akutagawa!”
“Yeah. He has a lot to say about you.”
That makes the kid go quiet. “He does? Really?”
Chuuya rolls his eyes. “I’m not telling you what he says. Go ask him yourself if you’re that curious. Just be warned that he is addicted to tea, his sister is vicious, and he’s so incredibly thick-headed that he hasn’t realized Higuchi has been crushing on him for, like, two years. So good luck.”
“Wh— I mean, well. That is. I.” Atsushi goes blank and just stares helplessly.
“It’s okay, kid.” Chuuya feels for him. “I understand. Dating mafia members is the worst, really. Make sure to take lots of vacations so he remembers to take breaks too. Now then, should we go shopping? I owe you a phone.”
“Good idea.” Oda nods to the officers, who seem more than content to take over from here, and they go shopping.
When they return to the agency, Chuuya is not surprised with who he spots relaxing in Oda’s seat.
“I’ve been expecting you,” their uninvited guest says in a low, dangerous voice.
“Hey, Fyodor. How are you?”
“Terrible. I despise this month.”
“Fair. When’s Nikolai making us have dinner together?”
“I have not been informed,” his Russian buddy mutters, glaring moodily at the window.
“You ran the second Nikolai started talking about holiday visits?” A nod is his answer. “Same. Thanks for remembering to wear colour this year.” Fyodor is dressed in dark red. He still looks objectively evil, but it’s better than his regular outfit.
“So… this is Dostoevsky, right? That guy we almost arrested?” Atsushi asks, looking slightly ill.
“Yes. He is also Fyodor, our less common seasonal employee.” Oda’s voice is matter of fact and that only seems to confuse the kid more.
“Can someone explain what a seasonal employee is? I think I’m confused.”
“An employee who only works during the holidays,” Chuuya offers.
“That was what I thought.” Atsushi does not seem reassured.
No one jumps to further clarify, so they all crowd around Oda’s desk to find a new task to complete. While there is no shortage of tasks, there is a limit on which ones Oda is willing to involve Fyodor (or Chuuya, sometimes) in, so it takes a few minutes of pursuing the open cases to find one that will suit them: a biker gang causing property damage and with a few minor physical assault charges.
“We could take crucial parts out of their engines and have them all crash,” Fyodor offers.
Oda grimaces and skips to the next file.
The door is slammed open loudly. Chuuya freezes, unsure if he needs to bolt for the window, then relaxes. It’s just Ranpo.
“Fancy Hat, with me! We have stuff to do.”
“Okay. See you later, guys.” He waves to Oda, Atsushi, and Fyodor, who looks a lot moodier now that Chuuya is being pulled off to do other things. Hopefully he still cooperates well; he knows that causing trouble means he will not be able to take sanctuary here next holiday season.
Chuuya follows Ranpo out of the café doors and onto the street, wondering when he should take charge and lead them so Ranpo doesn’t get them lost somewhere again.
“So, which store?” Chuuya asks when Ranpo does not say anything.
“Candy store first,” obviously, Chuuya does not need to be a detective to see that coming, “then I dunno.” Ranpo has a small frown on his face.
Instead of pushing, Chuuya nods. “Okay. Candy store first.” He knows which one Ranpo means — the expensive candy store that they only go to when Chuuya is buying — and leads the way.
It is a short eight-minute walk yet is disturbingly silent. Sure, Chuuya likes silence, especially from certain loud-mouthed mackerels, but it is odd to walk with Ranpo and not have endless chatting to fill the space between them.
When they arrive at the store, Chuuya does his job and stands at the checkout, patting his pocket to make sure his wallet is there. Ranpo marches around, a man on a mission, and grabs all the snacks he wants, dropping armfuls off at the checkout counter as needed.
“You can start ringing them through,” Chuuya offers to the poor teen staring at the growing mountain of sugary sweets. They nod and gulp, looking up for strength, then start scanning barcodes one by one.
Chuuya lets himself relax. The beep… beep… beep of the scanner and the stomping of Ranpo’s shoes is shockingly soothing.
The loud smack of two palms hitting the glass display case outside the shop is not so soothing.
Chuuya closes his eyes. If he does not see, then it did not happen.
But then the door opens, and he cannot avoid his problems any longer.
“Chuuya-san. I have been ordered to have you return to headquarters.”
“I’m busy.” Chuuya opens his eyes and gives Akutagawa his flattest look. Then he feels bad — it’s not the kid’s fault — so his look softens. “Do you want a snack?”
Akutagawa blinks. He looks away, a furrow in his brow. “No, sir. I’m fine.”
“Hmm.” Chuuya tries to see if Akutagawa is glancing around or looking at anything in particular, but can’t tell. Still, it is Christmas time, so Chuuya is getting him something.
“Ranpo!” Chuuya calls, pointing to Akutagawa, “Something for him and Gin too, okay?”
“Okay!” Ranpo gives him enthusiastic double-thumbs-up and starts a second walk-through of the store.
The checkout clerk whimpers.
“You still have to come back to headquarters,” Akutagawa insists.
“Do I?”
“Yes.”
Chuuya pauses. “You were told to bring me back with you, right?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, so just stick with me till Christmas season is over and it’s all good. You can’t get in trouble for doing your job well.”
Akutagawa frowns harder. “But doing my job well would require you to come back to headquarters now.”
Okay, fair. But, “Akutagawa, what if I told you I was doing all this for the boss? So, really, his orders are not in his best interest. You should listen to me. I’m his second, I know what I’m doing.”
“Of course you do, Chuuya-san. But this is an order—”
“It is a dumb order, Ryuu. So I’m ignoring it.” The kid flushes slightly, as he always does when Chuuya breaks professional code and nicknames him. Like Chuuya hasn’t practically raised him and his sister.
“But that’s not how orders work!”
“Sure they are. What’s he gonna do, fire me?” Chuuya snorts. “I dare him to daily. Ranpo already has my paperwork filled out to join the Agency fulltime, I just need to sign it.”
Akutagawa’s eyes go wide. “You’re quitting?”
“No, of course not. The organization would fall apart in a week without me.” Someone would whine and complain and not do their job if Chuuya left. And that someone needs to do their job well for the Port Mafia to be successful.
When Ranpo comes to a stop next to him, Chuuya realizes his friend is done shopping. The checkout clerk must be good at their job since they scan Ranpo’s purchases quickly and list the alarming total. Chuuya hands over his credit card. Ranpo sets a couple of the snacks aside as the clerk bags them up and passes those to Chuuya, who shoves them into Akutagawa’s hands.
“Here. Go home, bring Gin with you, and take tomorrow off too.”
“But—”
“That’s an order,” Chuuya says smugly.
Akutagawa fumes but gives a small nod and stomps out of the store. Conflicting orders mean that Akutagawa needs to pick which to follow, and he has always liked Chuuya better. Besides, it’ll do the kid some good to get some rest. He works too much.
Once Chuuya has all eleven of Ranpo’s candy bags looped over his arms, they head out. This time Ranpo leads the way, so they are quickly lost. Well, Ranpo is lost. Chuuya knows what district they’re in and can get back to the Agency from here.
“This is so stupid!” The detective finally exclaims. “I hate this so much!”
“We’re not that lost,” Chuuya says, trying to calm his friend down—
“I don’t know what to get Fukuzawa! Or if I should get him a gift at all!” Ranpo kicks a rock, then winces when he hurts his toes and the rock barely budges. “I don’t want to use my ability to deduce what he wants; I just want to be able to pick a gift on my own.”
“Do you want suggestions or do you want to go window-shopping?”
“I don’t know,” Ranpo groans, tugging at his hair. “I just hate feeling dumb like this!”
“You’re not dumb,” Chuuya says, patting his friend’s back. “Really. We both know dumb people and you are not like them.”
“Your husband isn’t dumb,” Ranpo mutters gloomily.
“Sure he is. You’re only saying that because you didn’t see him this morning.”
“That bad?”
“Worst holiday so far.” If only his partner wasn’t a loser. Then he could be at work like normal and get to enjoy talking to all his coworkers about the holidays. Spending time with the ADA members is nice too, but it isn’t the same.
Ranpo sighs. “Alright. So what’s your suggestion?”
“Oh easy. Adoption papers.”
Ranpo stops walking.
Chuuya stops too, turning to face the detective. Shock is clear on his face, then it blends to something more considering. Then he grins.
“He’ll be legally stuck with me.” Ranpo grabs Chuuya’s hand and tugs him along as he starts running down the street. “Come on, Fancy Hat! We have a courthouse to get to!”
Chuuya doesn’t point out that they’re going the wrong way. He’ll get Ranpo turned around eventually.
Once back at the Agency, Chuuya is assigned his regular task: cleaning. The Agency’s office is always a mess, and he is remarkably well-suited for cleaning. Being able to lift heavy things easily (with or without the help of his ability) means vacuuming is a breeze. Walking on the ceiling helps with dusting. And nothing is worse than scrubbing blood out of someone’s stupid white silk shirts, so stains go quick enough they don’t warrant any cursing. Plus he really doesn’t mind cleaning. It’s an easy task to do.
Though it would be easier if Fyodor wasn’t staring at him so intently.
“What?”
“What are you doing?” Fyodor asks in return.
“Cleaning?” The blank look on his friend’s face is alarming. Poor Nikolai. “Okay buddy, we’re going to do this last bit together. Here, use my cloth. I’ll get a new one. All we need to do is wet the cloth with water, wring some of the water back into the bucket, and wipe down all the desks.”
Fyodor holds the cloth like it is a live, feral rat, and Chuuya kind of wishes he could capture this moment. Maybe next year.
By the time the end of the shift is nearing, Chuuya is pacing nervously. It is four, the Agency closes at five today. That is a whole hour of time for bad things to happen.
“Sit down,” Oda says, patting the empty seat next to him. “You’re distracting everyone.”
Neither of them point out that no one is working anymore. Ranpo, Yosano, Kenji and Fukuzawa are playing cards, Atsushi and Kyouka are watching kitten videos, Junichiro and Naomi went home early, and Kunikida— well, Kunikida is working. But Chuuya is fairly certain Kunikida doesn’t know how to take time off, so that’s not a surprise.
Chuuya sits. Oda boots up a two-player computer game and slides his chair over so Chuuya can reach the designated keys for his characters to move. It is a game they’ve played before, so they are both not horrible at navigating the pixilated characters through maze on the screen.
After winning four levels, Chuuya is fairly calm. Naturally, this means that when slim fingers curl around his wrist, cutting off his ability, he reacts on instinct and slams his elbow back. He hits air. A scowl twists his lips and he whirls around, trying to find an escape, but instead finds himself falling off his chair and onto the ground, where he is pinned.
“Get off!” Chuuya hisses, squirming to get free. He could get free. But he would need to injure his assailant, and that’s not really an option. Which means he’s stuck.
“Nope!” He can hear the grin in his stupid partner’s reply.
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“You’re being insubordinate.”
Chuuya twists to glare at his husband. “Dazai. I’m not wearing matching Christmas sweaters at work.”
“But they’re great!” Dazai pouts at him, trying to make himself look sad, pathetic, and pitiable enough for Chuuya to cave. Unfortunately for him, his Port Mafia scarf looks horrible with his green Christmas tree sweater, his hair is a tangled, and there is a blob of ink on his face. Chuuya scowls. One day. That is all it took for the feared Port Mafia Boss to become a mess without him around.
“Get off,” Chuuya grumbles. “You’re embarrassing me in front of my coworkers.”
Dazai gasps dramatically. “You can’t work here! You work for me, not these losers — sorry Oda, but even you aren’t allowed to steal Chuuya.”
“He didn’t steal me. I ran here willingly.” Chuuya twists a bit more roughly. This time Dazai rolls off him, and they both stand. This allows him a better glimpse of his partner’s sweater and it is so much worse up close. He regrets ever trying to convince Dazai to loosen up at work. This is the worst possible outcome.
Before he realizes what he’s doing, Chuuya leaps back several feet and scowls at his partner. “Whatever you’re doing, don’t.”
Dazai’s lips quirk up on one side. A playful smile. That means he is actually up to something nefarious. Chuuya’s eyes narrow.
“Don’t be such a worrywart, Chuuya. I’m not doing anything.”
“That makes you more suspicious.”
Oda nods. “He’s got you there. You’re always up to something.”
“Rude!” Dazai whines. “Betrayed by my two closest friends!” He huffs and looks around the room for some support. He does not find any. “Oh come on, none of you are fun.”
“I’m trying to steal Fancy Hat for the Agency, so we can’t really be friends,” Ranpo shrugs.
“You always make me meet with that weird lemon guy for peace agreements and stuff, never with Kouyou, so you’re my nemesis,” Yosano adds.
“You never played me back in our online chess match,” Fyodor says.
“You ordered Akutagawa to kidnap me. Like, so many times.” Atsushi is glaring, which proves he is actually mad and isn’t just half-joking like the others.
“To be fair,” Dazai starts, “I was told very clearly to stop trying to kidnap you. Early on, actually. I just forgot to tell Akutagawa that the plans changed.”
“Are you serious?” Chuuya scowls. He was the one who made it clear they would not be kidnapping and selling kids with strong abilities. Dazai shrinks under his glare.
“I forgot! There was that whole thing with Tokyo, the problem in the UK, and the Guild all happening at once! You can’t blame me for forgetting one teeny tiny detail.”
“Yes I can.” Chuuya turns his back to his partner.
That is his mistake. He should have known Dazai was manipulating this conversation to achieve the outcome he desires.
When his field of vision goes black and fabric traps his arms, he knows he has lost.
Chuuya scowls as darkly as possible as Dazai yanks the sweater down and leaps out of range. He does not need to look to know this is the hideous reindeer sweater Dazai tried to get him to wear this morning.
“Would you murder me if I put an antler headband on you too?”
Chuuya meets his partner’s gaze. “Start running.”
“Now or after I—”
Chuuya rips his way free of the ugly sweater confinement with pure strength, no ability needed.
“Okay, running now.”
Dazai bolts, leaping from the nearest window (where he likely snuck in from), and Chuuya gives him a polite three-minute head start. Three minutes, then it will be five and his shift at the Agency will be over. He can’t leave early; what kind of seasonal employee would he be if he left early?
So Chuuya stretches, cracks his knuckles, and gets ready. Once the clock strikes five, Oda nods solemnly to him.
“Have fun.”
“Thanks. Happy holidays, everyone.”
Without waiting for anyone’s responses, Chuuya leaps out the window, red glowing around his outline, and sets to hunting down his husband. Dazai will have gotten further than anyone should in three minutes, but that just makes this particular holiday tradition more interesting.
Three hours later they are at home, bundled up on the couch as they try to get warm. Running is good for keeping warm in the wintertime, but having to hide from the cops in a snowbank after a small dose of property damage is a bit chilly.
“I still think Chuuya should’ve worn the sweater at work,” Dazai grumbles. “At our work. It’s not fair you get to go work with Oda on holidays.”
“We’re literally going to see him for dinner tomorrow.”
“Still.”
Chuuya rolls his eyes. “You know I don’t like being unprofessional at work.” It’s not as bad at home when his reputation doesn’t matter, hence why he is currently wearing the backup Christmas sweater Dazai bought. “Besides, you know you could pick days to go work at the Agency if you wanted to spend time with Oda.”
“But then I’d have to talk to Ranpo.”
“You’d also get to annoy Kunikida.”
Dazai hums, considering that. “True. Maybe for Valentine’s Day Chuuya could bring me to work with him.”
“You’re not allowed to wear black,” Chuuya warns.
“You mean we get to go shopping?!”
Chuuya regrets everything. “No. I’ll go shopping. You got banned from the mall.”
“Not my fault their rules are stupid,” Dazai grumbles, snuggling into Chuuya’s side. Frozen fingers sneak under Chuuya’s sweater to press against his stomach. He hisses and elbows Dazai, but doesn’t try that hard to dislodge him.
“Thanks for warming me up,” Dazai says. “I like having my own personal Chuuya-sized heater.”
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t get used to it.” They both know he doesn’t really mean that. They have a couple months of cold weather to get through, which means Chuuya is duty-bound to warm up his frozen partner.
They sit in silence for a moment before Dazai bumps their cheeks together, silently asking for a kiss. Chuuya obliges happily. He may have wanted to kiss his husband all day; there is something about horrible Christmas sweaters and how they prove how far Dazai has come since their teenage years that is rather moving.
“Merry Christmas—! Oh, are we interrupting?”
Chuuya breaks the kiss and glowers. He did not hear the door, but that’s because Nikolai hates doing anything normal and used his ability to bring himself, Fyodor, and what looks like a bakery’s worth of desserts inside.
“Guess dinner was planned for tonight?” Chuuya asks, looking at Fyodor. His friend shrugs. Fair enough. Still would’ve been nice to know so he could plan meals better.
They survive the night with only three case of arson amongst the four of them and zero murders, which is a new record.