“You know—when you said you were doing something sappy for my birthday—“ Dazai can’t stop smiling, “I really thought it was just gonna be a gift card or something—”

“You are /such a prick/—“

“Even on my birthday?”

Chuuya groans, “/Especially/ on your birthday.”

Parts I, II, III, and IV can be found here —> https://twitter.com/cataclysmiceve1/status/1247903213862277123?s=21

+ QRTs are welcome!
+ This will be long, I apologize in advance!

GENERAL TW //
— Homophobia
— Panic Attacks
— Descriptions of Violence
— Dysphoria
— NSFW

Dazai doesn’t try to /move/ the blindfold, and he /does/ find it cute, how focused Chuuya is on leading him, making sure he doesn’t trip over anything.

“Are we going to Disneyland?”

“It’s 9 p.m., why would we be going to—“

“Sneaking me in after hours would be pretty sappy!”

“Well /no/, Dazai—“ Chuuya rolls his eyes, keeping his hands on Dazai’s elbows, “—I’m not breaking the law for your birthday.”

Dazai pouts. “That’s too bad—it would’ve been pretty sexy—“

Chuuya rolls his eyes, “You /already/ think I’m sexy.”

“I do,” Dazai admits shamelessly—

“—and i /really/ wanted to see you in the ears.” Dazai admits with a shrug.

Chuuya rolls his eyes /again./ He would say ‘You’re lucky I love you,’ but—

Dazai’s response would /absolutely/ be ‘I am!’, and Chuuya is trying to /focus./

They finally stop on the sidewalk, and—

—Chuuya takes a deep breath “Okay—before you say anything, you need to promise you’ll tell me if you get freaked out, okay?”

Dazai turns his head in the direction of Chuuya’s voice, and it’s /so/ damn endearing when he quirks an eyebrow with his eyes covered— “...Is it a tiger?”

“No,” Chuuya sighs, shaking his head—though really, in Dazai’s case, a live tiger might freak him out /less/— “but I need you to promise me.”

And Chuuya /sounds/ serious, so Dazai gives him a serious answer.

“...I promise, I’ll tell you if I get freaked out.”

“Thank you.”

Chuuya leans up on his toes, reaching around to untie the back of the blindfold, and when he does, Dazai takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around the small of his back and kiss him.

“/Mmph/—! Dazai—I’m trying to—“

“Sorry, sorry—“ the blindfold finally /does/ slip off, and—

—Dazai blinks, adjusting to the dim lighting from the street lamps, his eyes peering over Chuuya’s shoulder curiously—and he looks /confused./

“...You got me a /car/?” Chuuya opens his mouth to explain, but— “You know i can’t drive, right?”

“I didn’t get you a /car/, it’s—“

“—it’s mine—“

Dazai’s jaw goes slack. “You bought a /car/?”

Chuuya nods carefully, “Mori thought it was a good idea, and I had a lot left over from the settlement—“

“When did you even learn how to drive?”

“Oda taught me—but that really isn’t the point—“ Chuuya bites his lip—

“They don’t have a rail line to where we’re going, and you hate ubers—“

“—because you know what being locked in the backseat of a stranger’s car sounds like?”

“A horror story,” Chuuya finishes for him with a sigh, because they’ve had /that/ conversation before “I was thinking—“

“—I could drive out there. If you’re comfortable with that.”

Dazai hesitates.

On one hand—there isn’t anyone else he trusts more, including himself.

On the other, the last time he was in a car, and the most important person in his life was driving—

“...Are you freaked out?”

“...No,” Dazai answers carefully. He doesn’t /love/ the idea of it—but he isn’t petrified either.

And grand gestures aren’t usually Chuuya’s thing to begin with, so—

Dazai doesn’t want to throw him off—especially when Chuuya is stepping out of his comfort zone to make Dazai—

—/happy./

“Are you /sure/?”

Dazai nods slowly, “Is it a long way?”

Chuuya shakes his head— “No, just a little over an hour.”

Dazai nods, rocking back on his heels, “After an hour and a half with Fyodor—I can handle that.”

Chuuya sighs with relief, “Alright—“

Dazai walks over to the passenger door—and he /does/ hesitate for a moment, his fingers hovering over the handle—

There’s still a loud, terrified gnawing in the back of his mind, telling him not to get in—

But it’s a little quieter than it was last time. “Where are we going?”

Chuuya shakes his head, climbing in and buckling up— “You took me all the way way to Aomori without telling me where we were going. You can handle a little suspense.”

Dazai pouts, but Chuuya has a /point./ “I guess that’s fair...”

And, compared to Fyodor, riding with Chuuya in—

—the driver’s seat is a /lot/ less terrifying. He’s careful in his movements, making gentle turns, never speeding up too quick or braking too hard.

That doesn’t /erase/ Dazai’s anxieties, but —

It makes it all very /bearable./

“Why did /Oda/ of all people teach you how to—“

“—drive?”

Chuuya shakes his head, his eyes never leaving the road. “Mori tried, but...” he trails off. “Ane-san asked Oda to do it.”

“And he drove over from Tokyo for that?”

“...” Chuuya makes a face, “I’m pretty sure he was bribed.

Dazai /snorts./

“Shut up! It was gross!”

Dazai is tempted to say that /Oda/ probably wouldn’t say that, but—

Chuuya looks queasy enough.

Dazai leans back in his seat, hugging his arms around himself as he tries to relax, and he’s /sort/ of succeeding, even if his teeth hurt from clenching together.

As far as birthdays go—he can’t say his 20th has been bad so far. Oda came back home for the weekend, they all suffered through a movie Dazai wanted to see and went out to a nice dinner—Mori even bought him a new laptop for school.

But as he watches the city lights shrink into—

—the distance, he doesn’t know what to expect from here.

Grand gestures have always been his thing—Chuuya finds them embarrassing, and he prefers to show he that cares in small ways. Like remembering how Dazai likes his coffee, or nagging him to make sure he eats enough.

So he doesn’t exactly know what /this/ is going to be.

“Given the fact that you basically admitted you’ve never been camping in your life,” Dazai comments, “I’m intrigued.”

Chuuya rolls his eyes, taking the highway exit heading towards Hakone, “Well—it’s not /exactly/ camping—“

“But it’s /sort of/ like camping?” Dazai questions, proud of his ability to wheedle information out of the redhead—and he can tell from the scowl on Chuuya’s face, he didn’t /mean/ to spare that detail.

“Could you lay off?! We’re almost there.”

Dazai laughs, but he complies—

And he doesn’t /immediately/ realize what this is—because Fuji Hakone Izu National Park is a pretty common tourist location, even though he can’t exactly pick out why Chuuya thought it was something Dazai would want for his /birthday./

“...And we’re /not/ camping?”

“You said—“

“—you’d lay off, didn’t you?”

Dazai fakes zipping his lips, “Sir yes sir, my apologies.”

“For someone who likes surprises so much, you’re shitty at being on the receiving end—“

Dazai pretends to look a little miffed. “You should be nicer to me.”

“I /am/ pretty nice to you.”

Dazai can’t really argue with that.

This particular park is massive enough to cover thousands of square kilometers—so he’s /surprised/ when Chuuya happens to make the turn towards Lake Ashi.

Which is one hell of a coincidence.

“I used to come out here all the time—“

Dazai says slowly, looking around at the familiar landmarks, the dark mass of the water coming into view from the side of the road, and the hills of forest on the opposite side.

Chuuya doesn’t seem /surprised/ by that. “Is that so?”

Dazai eyes him suspiciously as he puls into—

—the visitor’s parking lot, and then he realizes—

He just rode in the car for over an /hour/, and—

He barely panicked at all.

“Okay—“ Chuuya cuts the engine, throwing the car in park “I’m gonna need you to carry something for me—“

“On my /birthday/?” Dazai sighs dramatically—

—but it’s good natured whining, if there’s even such a thing.

He slips out of the car, walking around the back—and his first instinct is to reach for the trunk before Chuuya can even start “You can just tell me what to grab—“

“I was fine when I loaded it up earlier, I promise.”

Dazai is a little wary, but he relents. Chuuya comes around to pop the lid, revealing—

A duffle bag, a stack of folded up blankets, and a large, nondescript brown box. “Can you grab the duffle and the blankets for me?”

“Yes, dear.”

Instead of complaining about the pet name—