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The adults of the Agency minus their boss were drinking together in their usual spot after a particularly grueling case. They were sitting at a plain wooden table, Dazai and Kunikida on one side and Yosano and Ranpo on the other. Not many other patrons were there at that hour. The dark red walls and inky night outside seemed to swallow the glow from the overhead lights. It felt quiet and intimate, and should have been the perfect place to unwind.
“Something’s wrong.”
Dazai’s words were slurred and softly spoken as he stared at the ceiling of the bar.
“What, because there’s no lintel to hang yourself from?” Yosano asked, eyes closed and her hand propped on her cheek.
“I think I’ve been poisoned.”
It wasn’t spoken with great concern, but something about the tone made his coworkers pay attention.
“Why?” Kunikida turned to look at him, gaze slightly blurry even as he tried to focus on Dazai’s face. He couldn’t quite reach the intensity of his usual expression.
Dazai lifted the single bottle in front of him and wiggled it. “I feel drunk.”
They instantly understood; Dazai could usually put away much more than that before feeling its effects.
Ranpo sighed. “It’s not poison.”
“Eh? Then what?”
Ranpo dropped his head onto the table. “I’m not supposed to know.” His hand played with the stem of his glass that held the dregs of something neon green. “I shouldn’t have noticed. Can someone call the waiter over?”
Dazai put his bottle down and leaned over the table. “I don’t know how you drink that. Sweet doesn’t go well with alcohol.”
“Wrong.”
“So Dazai is fine,” Kunikida mumbled, his face relaxing again.
Yosano waved over a server and ordered Ranpo another cocktail.
“What did you notice?” Dazai’s tone was light, but it was more a demand than anything else.
It seemed, for a moment, that Ranpo might ignore him. He rolled his head to the side and pursed his lips together.
“You should have figured it out by now, right?”
“I’m drunk. I don’t want to think.”
“Nnn. Fine.” He raised a finger, pointing it at Dazai. “You’ve been doing something different recently.”
“Ran-po-sa-n. Thinking.”
“It’s so obvious,” Ranpo muttered.
Dazai blinked. “Are you getting mad?”
“Not really. You’ll be, though.”
Dazai sat up again before tipping his head over the back of his chair. He squinted at the ceiling and strained to turn the facts over in his head.
“Oh.”
The waiter came back with Ranpo’s drink - this one being something deep blue with a red and white striped straw. Ranpo sat up again when the waiter set it down.
“I bet that tastes disgusting,” Dazai said, as he tried not to give too much thought to Ranpo knowing he was taking antidepressants.
“Maybe to you.”
“Let me taste it.”
Dazai reached forward before Ranpo could respond, taking a sip through the straw. His face screwed up immediately.
“Ugh.”
“Don’t drink it then!” Ranpo swiped it back.
“Am I going to be a lightweight now?” Dazai asked. The implications of that sentence hit him immediately after he said it. “Chuuya!”
He didn’t have the energy to put into words the despair he felt at no longer being able to easily outdrink his ex-partner.
“Yes,” Ranpo said with absolutely no sympathy.
“Less money on alcohol,” Yosano cut in. “If you’re a lightweight now.” She sipped her wine. “I’ll be honest, I’m not following this conversation.”
“Good,” Dazai said. He tipped his head over the back of his chair again.
Kunikida stirred next to him. “Dazai’s a lightweight?”
“You’re a lightweight,” Dazai muttered.
“No.” Kunikida picked up the bottle in front of himself and turned it in his hand to read the label, then reached for Dazai’s.
“Seventeen percent,” he read. “Seventeen percent of five hundred milliliters versus fourteen percent of seven hundred and twenty milliliters…eighty-five versus one hundred. I win.”
Dazai snatched the bottle back. “You’re drunker than I am.”
“I’m not.”
“Aaah, I can’t believe this,” Dazai said, ignoring him. “I need to hurry up and find a beauty to die with me.”
Kunikida grabbed his collar and shook him. Instead of tolerating it like usual, Dazai batted him away and clutched his head.
Yosano’s eyes brightened. “Feeling sick?”
Ranpo picked up his drink and leaned back.
Surprise made Kunikida’s features smooth out again. “Is he going to throw up?”
“I’m not going to throw up, Kunikida-kun.”
The sadistic glint was still in Yosano’s eye. “If only you didn’t have your ability, I could fix you right up.”
“I’m so glad I have my ability!”
“I should stop drinking,” Kunikida said. “I’ll make sure you get home alright.”
“How noble of you, Kunikida-kun,” Dazai grumbled. “You’re more drunk than me.”
“You’re both drunk,” Yosano said. “I’m drunk. Ranpo’s drunk. We’re all drunk.”
Ranpo took his mouth off the straw to add, “Dazai’s the only one who feels sick, though.”
“Ugh, I need a beauty. A suicidal beauty…”
“Come on,” Kunikida said, rising from his seat. “We’re going back to the dormitory.”
Dazai looked at the hand Kunikida was offering him before sighing and taking it. He wobbled a little as he got to his feet.
“Stay safe,” Yosano said after them.
Kunikida and Dazai waved before leaving the building.
“It’s so cold out,” Dazai complained, though actually the cool air was making him feel a bit better.
The walk back to the dormitories wasn’t very long. It was why they drank at that particular bar so often. Yosano and Ranpo both lived nearby as well, though not quite so close.
Dazai was ready to crash onto his futon and await his inevitable hangover, only Kunikida led him to the door of his own apartment and Dazai followed him.
Kunikida ushered him inside and had him sit at the table while he poured two tall glasses of water.
Kunikida’s place was spartan and much cleaner than Dazai’s. He had a small bonsai tree, a couch, bookshelves and a desk…Dazai was certain he’d been here before and as his eyes skimmed over it all he was equally certain he’d forget what the room looked like as soon as he left.
Kunikida handed him his water and Dazai drank. Kunikida drained his own and poured himself another.
Dazai wondered if he’d have come if he’d known Kunikida was going to try and take care of him. He was here now, though, and too relaxed to want to leave.
“How are you feeling?” Kunikida asked.
Dazai leaned his chin on his hand. “Why do you have to ask that, Kunikida-kun?”
Kunikida remained silent for a moment. “You look better.”
“Ah, you’ve nursed me back to health.” Dazai moved to stand. “I should get back to my place.”
Kunikida’s hand fell heavily on his shoulder. With the haze in his eyes he looked almost mad.
“Five hundred milliliters of sake means five hundred milliliters of water.”
Dazai held his hands up in surrender while Kunikida took his glass to the sink. He realized his eyes had fallen shut when it was pressed back into his hands.
He drank this glass more slowly.
The idea of going back out into the cold was incredibly unappealing, even if his place was a few doors away.
“I’m going to sleep on your floor.”
“I have a couch.”
“Ah, you do.” Dazai flicked his finger against the empty glass. “I’ll sleep there.”
He rose unsteadily and with a few stumbling steps fell onto the cushions.
Kunikida’s chair creaked as he got up too, and Dazai listened with detached interest as he moved around the dormitory. He was almost asleep when he heard the footsteps stop by the couch and looked up to see Kunikida offering him a pillow.
Dazai took it and settled again, barely reacting when Kunikida draped a blanket over him. In another few minutes, he was asleep.