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“How much sugar do you want, bastard?”
Dazai groaned from his place on the couch, out of his usual clothes and snuggled into one of Chuuya’s oversized hoodies, the hood flipped up. “All of it...”
Chuuya rolled his eyes and put a few small spoonfuls in, before lifting both coffee mugs into the air to follow him out of the kitchen and into the living room. “You know,” he said as he settled the mug on the table just outside Dazai’s reach, “I don’t think the sugar in the coffee is what helps with the hangover.”
Dazai just, quite uncharacteristically, glared at Chuuya, whining when he realised his sweet coffee was just out of his reach.
Chuuya just leant back and barked out an amused laugh at the other teen’s misery.