[Strangely, the placid way Dazai talks about his habitual sluttery sobers Akira's embarrassment. He looks back up, mouth quirked crooked, and shakes his head.]
Seems lonely, if you ask me. [Danger, Will Robinson.]
(the end, it's no surprise he's lonely, he's a pit of misery that is hiding as a cheerful person. either way, he shrugs, his coffee nearly over, but the last sip deserves the best compliment. a cigarette.
nothing goes better with coffee than a cigarette. where is his lighter, though... he's mumbling those with the stick in his lips.)
If they aren't, then I'm blaming Chuuya. These are not mine.
(like he does with everything ever, does akira notice. the smoke goes into his lungs and he smiles as it leaves through his nose.)
Anyway. I'll give you some classes of molecular chemistry, but don't worry, it'll be practical, so you won't get any of the boring theory behind it, because I'm very cool like that.
[He ponders that, rolling his head from one side to the other for a moment.] Parkour? But you're a little..., [He gestures to Dazai's bandaged and splinted near-everything.] So just the chemistry is great, actually. Especially with tying it into drinks.
[The watch on his wrist beeps, and he glances down at it, grinning.] Oh, one second. [He gets up, spins his chair back under the table, and scrambles back into his shoes and out the door.]
[And then scrambles back in a little more gracefully, this time with funny litlte oven mitts and a very old-looking donabe. He balances it carefully on one mitted hand to open the door, takes it with both and bumps the door shut with his hip, and steps back out of his shoes to set the pot on the table.]
Think you can get into one of these chairs if I help you? It's fresh, so if I put it on your lap it'd probably burn you, and I don't trust you to not enjoy that.
Ah, Parkour... I can, I just don't like it, ah, so much work...
(however, it is a necessity in both his line of current work and his past one. th beeping makes his head tilt, mostly because he wasn't expecting there to be one, but once he smelled the pot upon return, there's a smile on his lips. ah, akira really is getting some points.
good eye-candy, and look at all this spoiling!!! there's a laugh as he offers an arm.)
I think if we just move me to the chair, it's fine.
(dazai barely eats, so he weighs almost nothing for his size.)
[Akira's grin broadens and he sheds one of two oven mitts, striding over to the bedside and crouching, reaching his arms out.] Not to proud to be bridal-carried by a teenager, are you? That Crab Hot Pot isn't gonna eat itself.
[All right Osamu Matryoshka, prepare to be scooped. Akira is not the strongest twink, but he's startlingly solid for as reedy as he is, so he has absolutely no problem hefting Dazai's 80lbs soaking wet weight. He lifts him carefully and stands, moving him to the chair he'd previously been sitting backward in and just as carefully lowering him into it.]
[And then for the more important part, his still-mitted hand grasps the lid of the donabe and he lifts it away to reveal a pot of molten delicious. He sets the lid aside and drops backward into the opposite chair, presenting Dazai with utensils that he appears to have conjured from thin air (they were probably in his sleeves) and setting his chin in one hand to grin placidly.]
(the fact that there are no issues in picking him up doesn't go unnoticed. he is aware that he is a toothpick, chuuya feeds him as much as he can, by strategically placing snacks wherever dazai is - it's a miracle for him to sit at this table. it mostly happens when dazai feels like being particularly nice, or when chuuya cooks for kotone, too.
a little 'oof' escapes him, because after all, he is still in unbelievable pain, as much as the painkillers allow him to numb it. dazai's eyes google at the food, looking back at the dish, and at akira, back, and forth, and back, and forth--)
... You made this... Really? For me? Simply like this?
[Akira just smiles-- smiles, more than grins, shrugging his shoulders and folding inward just a hair at the table, moving his hand from his chin to his opposite shoulder.]
I like cooking for people, 'n it's your birthday. So, Happy Birthday!
... Ah, you kiddos are definitely going to ruin me a little bit!
(he's soft... look at all these people who like him for some reason he doesn't even understand. the smile on his lips is a both incredulous and a little confused, but he'll dig in, carefully inspecting.)
Mmm, I'd say I'm pretty lucky, too. [He does not elaborate.]
[But he does appreciate Dazai's open enjoyment of his food. One of Akira's many love languages is food and feeding people, and he can't even begin to quantify the joy he derives from other people enjoying what he makes for them.]
Disagree, I think he won in every aspect of this exchange!
(and the food is incredible. he doesn't regret telling akira to come work with him, it might truly be a step towards growing those skills where he has guidance and freedom to experiment with whatever. dazai would never object.)
Ah, you'll be rich in no time, if you continue cooking.
[He doesn't quite preen, so much as wobble happily under the praise. Dazai doesn't seem the type to readily give compliments unless he truly means them, shrewd as he is, so it's a different sort of pride he takes in doing right by him.]
I'm not talking about money. There are other types of rich! Rich in spirit, rich in experience, rich in many things! I've been so rich the numbers didn't make sense to one's eye, and it means absolutely nothing to me, I would happily live in a box!
(as he did. a little shipping container, with almost nothing in it, surrounded by toxic waste. he wasn't happy, but his living conditions never had anything to do with it.)
[He grins, threading his fingers and setting his chin on the backs of his hands.] I prefer my dusty attic to most things, but I could make do with a box. Maybe a box with an umbrella. Like a stray cat.
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Seems lonely, if you ask me. [Danger, Will Robinson.]
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(the end, it's no surprise he's lonely, he's a pit of misery that is hiding as a cheerful person. either way, he shrugs, his coffee nearly over, but the last sip deserves the best compliment. a cigarette.
nothing goes better with coffee than a cigarette. where is his lighter, though... he's mumbling those with the stick in his lips.)
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(like he does with everything ever, does akira notice. the smoke goes into his lungs and he smiles as it leaves through his nose.)
Anyway. I'll give you some classes of molecular chemistry, but don't worry, it'll be practical, so you won't get any of the boring theory behind it, because I'm very cool like that.
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[He grins a moment later, nodding.] Much obliged, sensei.
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[The watch on his wrist beeps, and he glances down at it, grinning.] Oh, one second. [He gets up, spins his chair back under the table, and scrambles back into his shoes and out the door.]
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Think you can get into one of these chairs if I help you? It's fresh, so if I put it on your lap it'd probably burn you, and I don't trust you to not enjoy that.
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(however, it is a necessity in both his line of current work and his past one. th beeping makes his head tilt, mostly because he wasn't expecting there to be one, but once he smelled the pot upon return, there's a smile on his lips. ah, akira really is getting some points.
good eye-candy, and look at all this spoiling!!! there's a laugh as he offers an arm.)
I think if we just move me to the chair, it's fine.
(dazai barely eats, so he weighs almost nothing for his size.)
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(when one may be expecting a joke, a real answer! he's simply a russian doll of surprises. he'll make it easier for akira, cooperate with movement.)
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[And then for the more important part, his still-mitted hand grasps the lid of the donabe and he lifts it away to reveal a pot of molten delicious. He sets the lid aside and drops backward into the opposite chair, presenting Dazai with utensils that he appears to have conjured from thin air (they were probably in his sleeves) and setting his chin in one hand to grin placidly.]
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a little 'oof' escapes him, because after all, he is still in unbelievable pain, as much as the painkillers allow him to numb it. dazai's eyes google at the food, looking back at the dish, and at akira, back, and forth, and back, and forth--)
... You made this... Really? For me? Simply like this?
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I like cooking for people, 'n it's your birthday. So, Happy Birthday!
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(he's soft... look at all these people who like him for some reason he doesn't even understand. the smile on his lips is a both incredulous and a little confused, but he'll dig in, carefully inspecting.)
Twenty-three, huh...
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[He's just gonna chill and watch you eat, don't mind him.] Dang, we'll have to get you a cane next year!
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(occupational hazard in every way for him.)
Thank you, kid.
wow twins!
You can't just tell me things you like and expect me to not feed you, it's a chronic condition for me.
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(he eats, and his expression will say it for him with how excited he is about the taste. wonderful, akira.)
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[But he does appreciate Dazai's open enjoyment of his food. One of Akira's many love languages is food and feeding people, and he can't even begin to quantify the joy he derives from other people enjoying what he makes for them.]
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(and the food is incredible. he doesn't regret telling akira to come work with him, it might truly be a step towards growing those skills where he has guidance and freedom to experiment with whatever. dazai would never object.)
Ah, you'll be rich in no time, if you continue cooking.
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[He doesn't quite preen, so much as wobble happily under the praise. Dazai doesn't seem the type to readily give compliments unless he truly means them, shrewd as he is, so it's a different sort of pride he takes in doing right by him.]
I'm not really in it to get rich.
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(as he did. a little shipping container, with almost nothing in it, surrounded by toxic waste. he wasn't happy, but his living conditions never had anything to do with it.)
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ignore that this is absolutely akechi's hand
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