A/N: Hey, AK here! Here's a lovely little thing called the touch of spring. Hope you like it!

Touch of Spring

By AK

All that Fyodor had seen, all that he'd felt and all that he'd done, he had developed a thick skin.

It would take a lot for him to feel anything.

And 'a lot' was at the level of extreme weather.

Fyodor's favorite season was the frigid freeze of Russian winters.

Once he grew accustomed to the sun bearing down harshly in the Japanese summer, it came a close second.

But one thing that could never sit right with him was the gentle warmth of spring.

He was so used to the skin blistering cold and the mind numbing heat, that all he felt in spring time was its absence.

To him, Spring had none of the attractions that 'regular' people enjoyed.

The soothing breezes were halted by the high and heavy walls of his confinement.

The sweet fragrance of the cherry blossoms was muted by the steel mesh that he called a window and what other people would call a ventilation shaft.

He was immune to the tantalizing hint of love in the air.

Fyodor scoffed.

Who would he fall in love with in here?

The window?

Ah, but then the wall would be jealous.

No, he didn't quite fancy a threesome, thank you for asking.

Oh no, if anything, the dapper brown of the leg of his cot gave it a better chance at winning his affections.

Speaking of dapper brown…

He knew of one bathed in its various shades.

But he reminded him of autumn, not spring.

Of course, he penchant for death, or should he say, his penchant for dying, did not help revoke his impression.

And autumn was made bearable to him as he remembered those warm brown eyes.

Spring, spring was his least favorite season.

To him, Spring was but the transition between the harsh cold and the sweltering heat.

Neither here nor there.

It was like a long corridor between two rooms- overly celebrated, gaudily decorated and not as useful as it was made out to be.

But even Fyodor had to admit that he was interested in one of its attributes- the festival that celebrated the changing of seasons.

He wondered if he'd ever be able to see it.

Fyodor looked up at the CCTV camera trained to capture every one of his moves.

He tilted his head slightly.

The camera mirrored him.

Hm.

Auto mode, eh?

No one in the monitoring room.

He felt a bit offended.

Was he not lethal enough for 24/7 supervision?

What would they do if he just left, eh?

Who would take responsibility then?

He mulled over it a bit.

Maybe he should just leave.

There was nothing much to do here.

Personifying inanimate objects with his imagination is fun, but not for long.

He always knew what they were about to say.

He wished for a more capable conversation partner.

The dunder-heads in this facility just wouldn't cut it.

Sly lips and an intelligent smile flashed through his mind.

Fyodor suddenly felt impatient.

He wasn't staying here any longer.

Mind made up, he made eye contact with the CCTV camera.

He tilted his head to the other side.

The camera moved a bit but didn't follow his movement.

His monitor was back.

Too bad, he was too late.

His monitor, that is.

Alright-y.

He leaped off the bed and started working on the bindings of his strait-jacket.

As the alarms sounded, he wondered if he'd get bored.

If he was going out, might as well make a date out of it.

Cherry blossoms were romantic-ish, right?

Yeah, he fancied going out on a date.

He finished off the incoming guards with two quick flicks of his wrist.

It had been fat too long since he had seen his boyfriend.

He should pay him a visit.

Dazai sneezed.

He looked out of the window.

Birds were chirping, the air was warm and the sky was blue.

A picturesque Spring day.

So why exactly did he feel so cold?

…Was it the seven ice creams he had eaten yesterday in an attempt to die of brain freeze?

Fyodor alighted on top of the roof of the building of his confinement.

It had taken seven minutes and thirty seven seconds.

He twisted and stretched his muscles out.

He grinned up at the arriving helicopter.

Time to catch a little bird.

As he grabbed onto the rail, his body buffeted by the wind, he hoped that Dazai would appreciate all the trouble he faced for his sake.

Dazai sneezed again.

He peeked out of his window again.

There was no noticeable change.

He frowned slightly.

"Dazai-san," called Atsushi meekly.

Dazai blinked and said, "What is it, Atsushi-kun?"

"About the Spring festival…"

Dazai had a bad feeling about this.

Fyodor was getting frustrated.

Did none of Japan have a decent helipad?

He tapped his fingers against the steering impatiently.

Dazai sighed.

Did none of his co-workers have any sense?

One word. Yukatas.

Fyodor, freshly alighted from his helicopter, knocked on a polished wood door.

After a minute, he kicked it in.

The dust was thick in the air.

There was a call on the phone which instantly went to voicemail.

A man's voice sounded, "Oi Dazai! Where are you, you idiot? You were supposed to be here by five! Oh, never mind, you're here. How long does it take for you to put on a yutaka anyway?"

The voicemail ended with a click.

Fyodor's eyes gleamed red.

A few minutes later, he left the house.

The telephone was in pieces.

The door hung from its hinges.

Fyodor had a maniacal gleam as he cooed into nothingness,

"Going to my party without me, my pretty one?"

Dazai sneezed once more.

"That's three. Aw, someone thinks I'm pretty!"

"Shut up, Dazai," muttered Kunikida, "It's bad enough that I'm partnered with you. Again."

Dazai laughed merrily, distantly aware of the brewing storm.

Fyodor snuck through the shadows of laughing people.

His eyes scanned the crowd for a familiar figure.

The sea of people seemed to part as the DDA came to view.

"Oi, Dazai," snapped the voice from the voicemail.

It sounded even more infuriating in real life.

It was a tall, bespectacled man with dirty blond hair pulled back in a ponytail.

Somehow, he seemed familiar…

Suddenly it clicked.

It was Kunikida Doppo.

Dazai's coworker and partner at work.

Putting two and two together…

It was pretty obvious that Dazai was on business.

It was fine.

All was right in the world.

Dazai was just doing his job.

There was nothing wrong with that.

…But what was this uneasy feeling, then?

Dazai finally came to view holding two candied apples.

He made his way towards Kunikida.

Fyodor felt something bubbling slowly in his chest.

Kunikida looked surprised.

Dazai took his place next to him.

Fyodor felt something ugly rear its head.

He drew deeper into the shadows, rage spilled over like lava, slow and burning.

Jealousy fumed up into his chest and throat, burning his mouth and making it hard to breath.

He looked at the scene again.

Dazai murmured something to Kunikida in low tones, gesturing slightly with his hands.

Any minute now, he'd hand over one of the candied apples to his partner and the furrows between Kunikida's brows will smooth out.

Maybe after that, they'd spend the rest of the evening talking about nonsensical things.

Or, even worse, spend it in comfortable silence, needing no words to enjoy each other's presence.

Fyodor looked at Dazai, his Dazai.

Suddenly, he felt unsure.

"How can I trust you?" Dazai had asked.

Fyodor had offered him an apple.

Dazai had accepted it.

Pearly white teeth took a bite out of beautiful red.

And so they were dating.

Admittedly, they had been in solitary confinement together (which kind of defeated its purpose) and food was scarce.

But for that reason, there was little else to do, save say it out loud.

And words didn't have the same weight as objects did.

Maybe Dazai misunderstood?

Maybe he thought it was a request for friendship?

…Maybe he thought nothing of it?

Fyodor decided that it was unacceptable.

If Dazai was no longer his, then he would win him back.

He made a few calculations.

The wind was blowing south-west direction at a speed of-

The wind brought with it the sweet smell of candy mixed with the tart one of apple.

Sure, he could grab it out of his hands, but that would defeat its purpose.

He wanted it to be given to him, offered up to him with that smile meant for him and him only.

God.

Fyodor had never wanted anything more in his life.

The temperature was around 13 degrees Celsius-

His heavy jacket made him feel a bit warm underneath his collar.

But then again, it could just be Dazai.

He looked ravishing in the deep brown cloth wrapped around him.

He looked like a kitsune.

A fox spirit.

Beautiful.

Ethereal.

Untouchable.

The sun was at a 175 degree position from its eastern position-

The last light of setting sun set Dazai aglow.

It made his heart warm as well.

…He couldn't do this.

Not here, not now.

Dazai looked beautiful in his yutaka and Fyodor didn't want to turn his smiling face into a crying one.

But oh, how he was tempted!

And that was the reason he must slip away, slip away unnoticed.

He sighed, taking one last look over his shoulder and- stopped.

Dazai was gone.

"Looking for me?" asked Dazai, his voice so close to his ear that his breath ticked his cheek.

Fyodor didn't jump, not exactly.

If Dazai looked beautiful in the light of day, he looked right at home in the shadows of the night.

The dim light from the rising moon set deep shadows along the contours of his face.

The noises of the festival seemed far behind them.

Fyodor's whole being echoed with Dazai, Dazai, Dazai...

Dazai looked at him with his clever brown eyes.

His smile was wry and sardonic.

He looked like a fallen angel.

Fyodor, slowly and thoughtfully, smiled.

Dazai's heart was leaping out of his chest.

But he didn't let it show on his face.

However, he wasn't sure whether or not Fyodor had noticed his undignified scramble to get here… he hoped he hadn't.

Oh well.

He handed out one of the candied apples to Fyodor with a sweet smile.

It was only a little wicked.

"Want one?" he asked.

Fyodor accepted.

He raised a sardonic eyebrow at him.

Dazai smiled again, softer, more nervous.

"Come," he said, pulling Fyodor by his arm.

Out of the shadows, into the light.

Later on, as they watched the fireworks, Fyodor had a thought.

He lay on the grass, his head on Dazai's lap.

The candied apple that Dazai had offered him had been cleaned out with relish and the sticky stick lay on the ground next to him.

Dazai was still eating his, languid and lazy.

They had spent some time talking and the rest in comfortable silence, not needing words to enjoy each other's presence.

"Dazai, will you marry me?"

Dazai blinked.

"Didn't we marry already?" he asked.

Fyodor raised an eyebrow.

"How so?"

Dazai shrugged, looking a bit embarrassed.

"I don't know if you remember it, or if you thought of it again at all, but you once gave me an apple and I took it. And just now- oh, never mind."

Fyodor listened to him, his heart pounding out of his chest.

He had worried unnecessarily hadn't he?

He sat up and looked Dazai in the eye.

Dazai, looking very nervous, started,

"Look, if I misunderstood, I-"

Fyodor cut him off with a kiss.

He tasted the sweetness of candy and the tartness of apple.

It tasted of spring.

His as-of-now officially favorite season.

Bonus:

"So. We're married."

"We're married!"

"Well, technically not yet…"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, we didn't exchange rings for one…"

"But we exchanged apples!"

"Still, we need to fill in the family registry and whatnot."

"Nah, I took care of that when I came out of solitary confinement. Congratulations, you are now Fyodor Dazai and have been 'adopted' by yours truly."

"…"

It seemed like Dazai wasn't ready to let go of him any more than he was.

Fyodor smiled.

It was only a little bit wicked.

When Dazai woke up the next morning, he found a ring on his finger, an approved anti-adoption certificate and a marriage certificate from America stating that he was now Dazai Dvorski.

Dazai heart skipped a beat.

He smiled.

It was only a little bit wicked.

Let the games begin.

A/N: Did you like it? Tell me what you think!