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“How come I didn't know about this sooner?” Kunikida says with an exasperated sigh.
“It's, uh - usually not very - hic - consistent,” Dazai half-jokes, not able to keep up the charade for much longer. One hand is pressed against his tummy and the other grips the armrest, like he's somehow hoping it'll make him less nauseous, but it's a losing battle.
Kunikida is kind of a race car-style driver, and not in the fun way, the kind where Dazai can usually only handle small amounts at a time. That usually works out pretty okay, they're never in the car for long, but today is an exception.
“I'm trying to pull over, give me a second,” Kunikida murmurs nervously.
“Not sure how long I can wait, partner,” Dazai manages, mistaking the pressure in his esophagus for a burp that he tries to cover up with a fist pressed to his lips, but it's much more than that. Suddenly a mouthful of hot liquid fills up his mouth and splashes against the back of his teeth, but he's lucky that it's small enough for him to swallow back with a sickly gulp. He knows there's more coming, though, with the way his tummy is sloshing around under his hand.
“Did you just -” Kunikida stammers, wide-eyed for a moment before he reaches back behind Dazai's seat and pulls out a little trash bag. Dazai's lucky he's the type of person to keep his car in order. He really doesn't feel like throwing up all over his shoes today.
Dazai takes the bag with shaky hands, and it feels as if the moment he takes his hand off his tummy is when the floodgates open. He burps as he rustles the bag to open it a little more and that bit of vomit he swallowed comes right back up, rushing over his tongue and splattering into the thin plastic bag in his hands, sagging at the bottom.
“Shit, Dazai,” Kunikida mumbles, reaching a hand over to lay on his shoulder as the car starts to slow down. Dazai would very much like for it to drop but he knows there's not much Kunikida can do where they're driving right now, but before he can reply, he groans through another nauseous burp that brings up a thick gush of vomit into the bag, nearly missing it and landing on the floorboard.
“Sorry,” he manages, leaning back for a moment to catch his breath, a belch forcing itself up and nearly threatening more of his lunch to come with it as Kunikida is finally able to stop the car.
“It's fine,” Kunikida assures him, his hand moving to Dazai's back to rub circles into it. “Thought I was an okay driver.”
“My tummy - bllrpp - disagrees,” Dazai whines as he leans forward again, spitting up the saliva that's pooled in his mouth. His tummy is still turning and twisting even now that the car has stopped, but he's hoping it'll calm down soon.
Dazai thinks he might be done, but of course the second he lets his guard down, a third, much thicker gush of hot vomit comes up from his throat, forcing a gag out from how heavy it is, and he's unlucky enough to actually have the pleasure to completely miss the bag and throw up all over his shoes, thick chunks of vomit sliding off the leather and onto the floorboard to join the rest of the pile.
Dazai's noticed that Kunikida's hand has suddenly stopped.
“Now Kunikida's really gonna kill me,” Dazai mumbles, sheepish eyes trailing up to meet Kunikida's, who looks as pale as a sheet.
“No, it's…it's fine,” he somehow manages to say, even though he's clearly seething with something. Rage, disgust, who knows. Fair reaction to someone who has just thrown up in his newly cleaned car.