Chapter Text
In retrospect, this was only ever a terrible idea.
Dazai is not 100% certain why he thought it was a good plan to take his new coworker--the very same one that had held him by the lapels of his coat, shouted into his ear about everything wrong with his world views, and refused to talk to him for a day afterwards--out for drinks. What he had told himself at the time was that if he was going to have to get along with Kunikida for the foreseeable future, he needed to find a way to bridge this gap he had cleaved between them, and fast. And if there was anything he knew he could do reliably, it was get drunk and ignore problems. Adding another party to the mix should not have been a catastrophic move.
He had failed to consider certain qualities of his second party of choice that might make the afternoon difficult.
For one thing, Kunikida took a significant amount of convincing. In the end, Dazai had to offer to pay for everything. Sure, Dazai has plenty of money sitting around from the days he doesn't like to think about, but he doesn’t like to spend it on trivial things like this on principle. He reminded himself that it wouldn't be trivial if this actually did help he and Kunikida… bond, or whatever.
“Say that again,” Kunikida demanded, a look of disbelief--or something close to it, his lips tight and the light across his glasses hiding his eyes from view--on his face.
“Oh come on, I know you heard me,” Dazai protested with a pout.
“Right, but I need it on video for proof.”
“Kunikida-kunnnnn, I had no idea you were so cruel~” Whining comes very naturally to him, which was lucky, because he had the strangest urge to break out grinning. He told himself it was just because Kunikida was playing along again, rather than giving him the terse silent treatment from before.
Despite kicking up a fuss, he did in fact end up repeating on recording that he would pay for his and Kunikida’s drinks for the duration of the night, so help him God.
Which lead to the two of them sitting next to each other at the counter of the dingiest, cheapest bar Dazai could find, with Kunikida sucking down drinks like water.
Dazai had not predicted this.
He initially suspects that Kunikida’s main motive is spite, which is something he can respect, honestly. It's not that he’s upset about it, really--his wallet wouldn't grieve too harshly even if Kunikida asked him to purchase every bottle behind the counter--but some neighbor to concern has begun to move in. They don't talk much, giving Dazai plenty of time to think (which is somewhat the opposite of what he was hoping would happen). Kunikida is an adult, and Dazai isn't going to baby him and remind him to slow down, but the longer it goes on the more he thinks he maybe should . Much like himself, Kunikida has only just recently hit the legal drinking age, and much un like himself, Kunikida isn't the type to give it a try before the law says he’s ready. Whereas Dazai has been drinking since he was fifteen, Kunikida has probably done very little testing of his limits.
Realizing this and doing something about it are two very different concepts in Dazai’s head, however, especially considering that he’s also fairly tipsy at this point. Or he must be, since it's the only logical explanation for the thoughts that have begun to sidle in next to the almost-concern. Thoughts about how shiny and soft Kunikida’s hair looks in the bar’s shitty lighting, or about how flushed cheeks suit his face, as well as half drawn out but rapidly aborted plots to make that flush happen more often.
Okay. Okay, time to do something. No more of that.
“Oi, Kunikida-kun, don't you think you’ve had enough~?” Dazai says, leaning onto the counter in order to get a better look at his partner. At some point, Kunikida had untied the ribbon at his throat and let it hang there. Dazai wonders when he did that. Probably while Dazai was too busy thinking about his hair to notice.
“Aren't you jus’ saying that because you have to pay for it?” Kunikida slurs, punctuating his statement with another sip.
“Whatever could give you that idea?”
“Stingy bastard.”
“That hurts, Kunikida-kun, really it does.” Dazai presses a hand to his heart as though physically wounded. “But no, I do actually think you’ve drunk your limit. Isn't there anything in that silly notebook of yours about the detriments of drinking too much, hm?”
At that, a frown twitches across Kunikida’s lips briefly, his thumbs tracing the condensation on his glass in agitation that would probably be much better concealed at any other time. Or maybe not. Dazai is reminded daily that outside the mafia, people don't usually bother hiding much of their more discrete body language. “It's not silly,” Kunikida says, probably quieter than intended.
“Of course not.” He allows his tone of voice to say otherwise, since Kunikida already knows.
“ It’s not ,” Kunikida insists, turning away from his drink to point an accusing finger at Dazai. He sways, a little more than slightly, and Dazai feels something like a distant cousin of worry that his partner will fall out of his seat entirely.
He doesn't, and Dazai takes this opportunity to move his drink out of his reach. “That’s what I said. Okay, big guy, how about you and I get going, hm? I’ll pay for our drinks and then we’ll call you a cab.”
He pays no attention to Kunikida’s grumbling, whether it was an affirmative or not, and pays as quickly as he can. This was, unfortunately, a bust, and not as much of a cheap one as he’d been hoping.
Kunikida insists, at first, that he doesn't need any help walking to the door or calling a cab, but the first step he takes is with the complete gracelessness of a newborn deer, so Dazai takes advantage of all the stumbling to insert himself under his partner’s arm for support. Kunikida leans heavily into him probably without meaning to, swamping him with warmth and the smell of alcohol and sharp yet tasteful cologne. Dazai’s face suddenly feels hot, which he writes off forcibly as an effect of the booze and the shared body heat and nothing else.
When they arrive outside and step into the mouth of the nearest alleyway, Kunikida throws himself off of Dazai in order to vomit, and Dazai takes that opportunity to call a cab, ignoring the unpleasant noises behind him. As soon as he snaps his phone shut, he braces himself, turning to survey the damage. He’s not expecting Kunikida to be standing directly behind him, and nearly jumps out of his skin. “Fuck, Kunikida-kun, warn a guy!” he snaps without much actual anger, trying to coax his heart rate back to normal.
Kunikida’s expression is strange. Blank, like the one Dazai’s reflection sometimes wears. Other people aren't supposed to use that one. The light from the street lamps is captured in his lenses, meaning Dazai can't see his eyes again. He really hates that. “It’s not stupid,” Kunikida rasps.
It takes Dazai perhaps a bit longer than usual to realize what he’s talking about. “You’re still on that?”
“ I’m not stupid.”
“I never said you were,” Dazai says, scanning his memory to make sure that's actually true. As far as he’s aware, it is.
“But you… You have to think so, right? Because--Because you think my Ideal is stupid.”
“That's not--” He sighs through his nose, collecting his thoughts. “Listen, Kunikida-kun, I--”
A single tear makes its way down Kunikida’s face.
Dazai’s brain stops working.
Dazai is talented in many ways. He is good at seeing through people and their intentions, and he is (usually, but apparently not tonight, what the fuck is he doing?) good at predicting what they are going to do and say. He is not, however, good at comforting people. It was easy with the girl on the plane, because that wasn’t in person, and it was a little girl whom he would never have to talk to again and whose feelings were fairly straightforward. This is his grown adult work partner with grown adult complexities who is apparently also an emotional drunk.
Shit.
Kunikida starts talking again, and Dazai does nothing to stop him, hoping to get some kind of hint on what he should say. “You don't get it,” Kunikida says with a sob, and Dazai finds himself distinctly uncomfortable. He wants to look anywhere but at his partner (but he can't, because that would show weakness--to who, he doesn't know) and an itching sensation has started up at the back of his neck.
“No,” Dazai says hesitantly. “I don't get it. Explain it to me.” He tries to sound gentle. He’s assuming this has something to do with how their last case wrapped up, but he isn't sure what else he’s supposed to say on it if Kunikida doesn't give him more to work with.
“My whole life is in this goddamn notebook and you just come along and you--and you--you just--”
“Calm down, you’re not making any sense.” Would it be appropriate to pat him on the back or something?
“You told me I was wrong , and it made sense , but at the same time it didn't at all , and--”
“You’ve been having an existential crisis,” Dazai completes for him. That's both good (for Dazai, anyways) and bad. On the one hand he has plenty of first hand experience with those. On the other hand, they are a good portion of why he wants to die, so he’s not exactly sure how he’s supposed to help someone else with one.
In place of an answer, Kunikida simply stands there for a moment, his shoulders shaking. He reaches into his vest and pulls out his notebook, the kanji on the cover standing out proudly even in the dim alleyway. Without warning, he tosses it onto the ground.
With another controlled sigh, Dazai stoops to pick it up. “Well don't do that,” he says, brushing any dirt off the notebook. “I know I said some things--”
“A lot of things,” Kunikida interrupts, a forlorn croaking quality in his voice.
“A lot of things, and I’m not taking them back.” The memory of Oda’s death, and the similarities between him and Kunikida, sting too sharply for that. “But I didn't mean for you to throw your whole way of life away.”
“Then what am I supposed to do?” Kunikida whispers.
And fuck, Dazai doesn't know.
Coincidentally, he hears a car pull up behind him and whips around, confirming that it is in fact the cab. It is only thanks to his well-practiced self restraint that he manages not to heave a sigh of relief. “Hey, would you look at that! Cab’s here.” He shoves the notebook back into Kunikida’s hands, steering him towards the vehicle.
“H-hold on--” Kunikida tries to protest, but Dazai verbally plows over him with, “I’ll see you at work, remember to drink water! Bye-bye!”
Kunikida looks dazed, but he gets in when Dazai opens the door and doesn't make any move to stop him as he all but slams it shut again. The windows are tinted, so Dazai can't see his partner's face anymore, but he gets the feeling Kunikida is still looking at him as the cab pulls away.
Dazai feels… a little bit sick, as he walks towards his nearby apartment. Which is strange, considering he really only had a couple of drinks. Something feels unfinished, and he knows what it is, he just… Doesn't want to address it.
This… really was a terrible idea.