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"Chuuya-san, I don't think you should drink so much..." Akutagawa says, his voice laced with concern.
"Oh, liven up, Akutagawa," Chuuya snorts, sliding a cup of whiskey in front of Akutagawa. "This marks the half-year anniversary from the day when that shitty bastard left the Port Mafia."
"But-"
"No 'buts' Akutagawa. You and I hate him both, don't we? Celebrate the day instead of sulking." Chuuya brings his glass up, tilting his head in a silent beckon for Akutagawa to tap his glass with Chuuya's.
"What about your alcohol tolerance, Chuuya-san?"
"Peh." Chuuya flicks his wrist lazily as if brushing Akutagawa off. "Don't worry, don't worry. I can handle it. I've drunk wine for a long time, after all. My alcohol tolerance has definitely increased."
Akutagawa's gaze lingers on Chuuya as the man raises the glass to his lips. He knows that his superior never had a high alcohol tolerance despite his weekly drinking habits. He definitely can not handle it, so to say. It had always been Akutagawa that hauled Chuuya's drunk ass back home every time he went to a bar to mope.
Hesitantly, Akutagawa takes a sip of his whiskey, the bitter taste flowing over his tongue. He cringes at the flavor; he had never gotten used to the drinks Chuuya had suggested him to try despite the number of bars they've been to.
A bottle and a third later, Chuuya is face-first against the counter, slurred profanities tumbling out of his mouth. Akutagawa's slightly buzzed, but his senses are still as sharp.
"That shiiiity Dazai," Chuuya slurs, pounding his fist weakly against the table. "How dare he leave the Mafia without a notice?"
Akutagawa merely hums for he has nothing to say. When Chuuya drank too much following the day Dazai left the Mafia, his talks had always swerved to Dazai, no matter the time of day.
"Right, Akutagawa?"
Akutagawa blinks, having been buried within his thoughts.
"Sorry?"
"I said," Chuuya downs the rest of his wine, slamming the glass down, "isn't it bullshit that the fucking mackerel left us and got himself a new par'ner and student?"
"Partner and student?"
"Nakahima and Kunihida."
"Oh."
"Isn't it? He's such a fucking bastard, I can just-" Chuuya slams his forehead on the marble, his screams muffled.
Akutagawa can't exactly relate to Chuuya. He'd never shared such a deep bond with his mentor before even if he did want to impress Dazai. Whereas, Chuuya, on the other hand, was closer to Dazai in a way Akutagawa didn't think was possible. In spite of Dazai's cold attitude and the lack of will shown in his eyes, Chuuya had fallen in love with Dazai.
How he knew? Chuuya had always ignored the topic when Akutagawa brought it up during their training, but even if he did, it wasn't like Akutagawa was completely oblivious to the stares Chuuya gave Dazai when they were partners.
After Dazai had left, Chuuya broke down. He drunk himself to the edge of unconsciousness and stayed locked in his room for hours at end. It wasn't until somehow, magically, he managed to pull his shit together.
But Akutagawa doubted that his superior had forgotten about Dazai, hence his increase in alcohol consumption.
"He even had the fucking audacity to blow up my car," Chuuya slurs, his eyes half-lidded.
"Oh? And who did that?"
Akutagawa's eyes widen as he looks over his shoulder just as a mop of brown hair meets his gaze.
"Rasho-"
The man smiles, placing a finger to his lips as he places his hand on Akutagawa's shoulder, nullifying his ability.
"Dazai-san," Akutagawa breathes, his heart jumping to his throat.
"Don't fuck with me, Akutagawa. You know who blew up my car," Chuuya hiccups, unaware of Dazai's presence.
"Do I, now?"
Dazai waves his hand at Akutagawa, gesturing for him to leave. Though Dazai is now in the Armed Detective Agency, Akutagawa's trust in his mentor remains, and thus, he listens to Dazai.
Maybe in this way, Dazai can make amends to Chuuya's heart.
The first thing Dazai sees when he walks into the bar is Chuuya and Akutagawa. Great. On the night Dazai chooses to spend his quality time with a drink, he runs into these two - remnants of his former past.
As he walks closer, he can make out several garbled words spilling out of Chuuya's drunk mouth: "Isn't it? He's such a fucking bastard, I can just-", followed by a muffled scream.
Dazai halts momentarily, and he realizes, oh, they were talking about him (because who else would call him by such a vulgar pseudonym?).
Dazai also knows that with Chuuya drunk like this, Akutagawa can't possibly single-handedly bring Chuuya home. Besides, this would probably be the only chance Dazai will get to tease Chuuya over how drunk he is and the funny way in which he slurs his words.
When Dazai walks over to where the two are sitting, he hears: "And he even had the fucking audacity to blow up my car."
"Oh? And who did that?" His words are dripping with amusement when he appears behind Akutagawa.
The black-haired man whips his head behind his shoulder, catching Dazai's gaze in his as he opens his mouth to summon his ability.
Dazai places a hand on his shoulder, nullifying Akutagawa's ability before the man can finish saying "Rashomon". He then raises a finger to his lips, silencing Akutagawa.
"Dazai-san," Dazai hears Akutagawa say before Chuuya interrupts with "Don't fuck with me, Akutagawa. You know who blew up my car."
"Do I, now?" Dazai answers for Akutagawa, waving him off before looping his elbows under Chuuya's arms to drag the redhead out of his seat.
"Maybe I should take you home," Dazai speaks softly, hauling Chuuya off the stool in a fluid motion.
"I don't want to," Chuuya whines.
Dazai hums and is barely able to catch Chuuya before the redhead trips on his own feet. With a grunt, Dazai drags Chuuya out the door and into the cold air.
"You know," Chuuya starts off again, his voice slipping, "I opened a bottle of Petrus on the night shitty Dazai left."
"Did you, now?" The corners of Dazai's lips lift upward as he struggles to pull Chuuya to his feet.
"It was a blessing that he left. That no-good suicidal maniac with the most beautiful face I've ever seen. I hate him so much."
Dazai stops in midstep, turning his head toward Chuuya. Beautiful? Did chibi call him beautiful?
Chuuya's voice softens when he says, "Akutagawa. There's something I want to tell you."
"Oh?"
"You promise not to tell anyone, right? That's an order from your executive," Chuuya hiccups, his knees buckling slightly.
"Yes."
There's an ounce of uncertainty when Chuuya opens his mouth. "I don't... hate him."
"You don't?" Dazai echoes. Although he's known that Chuuya had feelings for him when they were once double black, but to hear Chuuya confessing that directly to him? It stunned him more than he had expected.
"He can just... supercalifuckilistickissmyassadocious for all I care. I kind of regret not telling him to do so earlier," Chuuya chuckles.
Dazai's attempts to suppress his laughter are futile when a guffaw topples out of his mouth, causing his arms to shake with laughter. Supercali what now?
"Oi! Stop laughing your pretty ass off, Akutagawa. I actually love the fucking bastard."
For once, Dazai's glad that Chuuya's gaze is fixed on the ground and not on his face because the shock on Dazai's face is enough to surprise even himself.
Chuuya then violently shakes his head, his hiccups mixing in with his laughter. Just when Dazai is about to speak, Chuuya sneezes, his hands flying to his arms and rubbing it to spark warmth.
"You know, you smell a lot like Dazai, which is pretty funny." Chuuya sniffs, removing himself from Dazai's hold around his shoulders. Panic flares in Dazai's chest, and just as Chuuya's about to lift his head to inspect the man, Dazai hastily removes his lapel coat and tosses it onto the redhead.
While Chuuya busies himself in spitting out half worded profanities, Dazai hails a cab, his heart thundering a bruise within his ribcage.
He ushers Chuuya into the taxi, sliding in with him.
"What the fuck was that for?" Chuuya's voice wavers while his eyelids droop.
"Sleep, chibi." Dazai brings Chuuya's head onto his lap, running his fingers through Chuuya's fiery hair.
And just like that, Chuuya is knocked out.
A sense of regret washes through Dazai like a tidal wave, and he tries to swallow his remorse. He should have told Chuuya that he reciprocated those feelings on the night he left, but he couldn't bring himself to hurt the redhead even further.
Heaving a sigh, Dazai leans back against his seat, his hand caressing Chuuya's locks of hair as he too, rests his eyes for the time being.
The next day, Chuuya wakes up in his bed, his mind groggy from last night. All he can remember is the sound of a voice that did not belong to Akutagawa and someone that smelled strongly of Dazai (but there's no way that Dazai could have been there, right?).
And hell, did he confess his feelings for Dazai to some stranger with "supercalifuckilistickissmyassadocious"? Oh dear lord, he is so screwed if that had been Dazai.
But that's evidently impossible - there's no fucking way it could have been him, Chuuya laughs to himself.
It is only then when Chuuya reaches over to grab the pain-killers and the glass of water on his nightstand did he notice a familiar coat wrapped around his shoulders.
He blinks, once, twice, three times. Had he actually...?
"What. The actual fuck."