Work Text:
“Kunikidaaaaaaaa—”
When you’re upset, are you supposed to count up to ten, or backwards from it? He’ll have to look it up later. For now, Kunikida’s going to glare at the door to his dorm and hope that, maybe, the offending voice will go away. He has to finish reviewing tomorrow’s schedule before bed.
Another rapping at the door, although halfway through it sounded like the person gave up and was just pawing at it like a pathetic cat. “Kunikida, I know you’re in there. Let me innnnnnnnnn.”
No. If Dazai was in an emergency, he wouldn’t bother with the door. That man has crawled through more windows than he’s had days on the job, so he could only be here for a non essential reason, like annoying Kunikida. He shook his head, adjusting his glasses and turning the page at the table.
Kunikida gives himself a flexible part of his schedule, much like a margin for error in calculations, so he can deal with unexpected parts of his day-to-day. For example, sometimes Atsushi’s customary greeting transitions into a request for advice, and Kunikida would find it against his Ideals to just tell his junior that he’s wasting time. Other times, he brings a lunch with him and expects to heat it in the break room (no eating at his desk, Dazai purposefully makes him spill his food on his work), but he’s stuck with Ranpo duty taking him to a nearby shop because he “forgot” to pack a meal. Naturally, the travel time takes longer. So yes, while his schedule is rigid, if he wants to work with hellions and well-meaning amateurs alike, he needs to accommodate them.
Dazai knows how much time he has that’s flexible, and today he has spent all of it on his own. He walked through Kunikida’s personal restock of the armory and turned every gun back into paper with a touch, so Kunikida had to file for permission to buy actual firearms today instead of over the weekend. He intentionally trapped Kunikida after work with high-grade slacking off so he received a lecture, and the detective couldn’t go to their usual stationary store before it closed and took a trip across town for the pens he wanted. Even when given the most simple task of making sure Atsushi knows where his job is today, Dazai mucked it up and said the only spot that has no cellular connection, so Kunikida drove there himself.
This must be precisely calculated so that he’d be down to the wire on finishing his list today, and now that he’s at the last bullet point, Dazai finds some way to interrupt him. Maybe he wanted Kunikida sleep deprived so he can get away with an extraordinary lack of work tomorrow. Perhaps there’s a job coming up that he’s specifically avoiding. Kunikida couldn’t remember any new cases popping up, but he’ll check the list for tomorrow again just to be sure.
“Were you seriously not going to let me in?”
Kunikida white knuckled his pen as he noted Dazai’s voice being significantly less muffled, and much, much closer. He barely spared a glance to confirm that, yes, Dazai did just leave his door open and sit down opposite of him at the table, entirely uninvited. “Must you break my door?”
“Kunikida, I’m hurt! I can pick a lock without breaking it.”
“Must you pick my lock, then.”
“Yes, I must.” Dazai leaned back so only two legs of the chair were on the ground. Kunikida hooked his slipper into the crossbar of the chair to force it, and its occupant, forward.
“Don’t wreck my chairs, and don’t put your shoes on my table. You know where they go.” He stomped out any hint of satisfaction at his partner being awkwardly sandwiched between the pieces of furniture, Dazai carefully uncurling so he’s standing again. He disappeared from Kunikida’s line of sight, and when he returned, he had slippers too.
“Better?”
He actually listened? Kunikida decided that this is worthy enough of a pause, closing his notebook. “Dazai, why are you here?”
“I’m bored.”
“Ranpo is more interesting to you, I’m sure.”
“I can’t sleep.”
“Since when have you cared about sleeping?”
“Do I need an excuse to be here?”
“Obviously yes, if you tried two excuses before asking that question.”
“I’m just here to raid your alcohol.”
“You have sake in your room.”
“Not the expensive kind.”
Kunikida blankly pointed to the shelf behind him, already opening his book again to make a note to buy more. Dazai both has a taste for rich liquor and the budget for it, but instead only gets the cheap stuff and takes from his partner. Kunikida recognized it as a pattern already established, one that he wasn’t in before, but he gave up on breaking that mold and just bought more than he personally found tasteful to keep in his room. Why even purchase cheap sake if you never drink it?
What does Dazai spend his paychecks on?
Maybe he should investigate that. Or he could just ask. Kunikida turned in his chair, mouth open to speak and now agape in horror. “Daz—WHY?!”
Dazai continued to pour the sake right on his head, the bottle not big enough to splash on the floor, but certainly soiling his hair, coat, and bandages. “I needed a shower.”
“Then shower with water you insolent—” Kunikida stopped himself mid-curse, instead snatching the dripping bottle away and slamming it on the table hard enough to crack it. Dazai’s absolutely messing with him now. “Bathroom. Now.”
“Aw, you’re so easy to rile up—ah!” Dazai yelped as Kunikida grabbed the not-wet sleeve and bodily forced him into the bathroom. There’s no way the end goal is to just get a free shower, right? Kunikida wrinkled his nose at the smell of booze on his clothes. Maybe he just wants to steal some new shirts so he can put off laundry. Kunikida stomped over to his bedroom, grabbed new pajamas, and threw them in the bathroom behind Dazai.
“Do not leave until you’re clean.”
“Thank you!”
Kunikida knew he should take this moment of grace to finish his list, but his schedule is already completely thrown off. No more flexible areas, no double and triple checks, and he’s at the easiest part of the day: going to sleep. How did Dazai mess up letting him sleep?
Fine, maybe the sleep isn’t that easy, since he keeps getting an odd weight in his chest and turning in his bed, but it’s fine. He’s fine. He doesn’t know how long it takes to sleep, since every time he checks the clock, he shines a light on his eyes which only makes him more awake and less likely to rest, but he has to be drifting off at an amicable time.
Although today when he was working, Ranpo turned to stare right at him, eyes full of contemplation, a whole three times. And right before Dazai did his signature throw-Kunikida-off-his-routine routine, Ranpo pulled him aside to talk about something. Call Kunikida crazy, but he thinks they’re conspiring. They want to get him off schedule, so they’ll find a way to make him tired, so they can—something.
It’s annoying being the third smartest person in the agency at any given time. Yes, he’s accepted that status long ago, but they run circles around him while he just waits to be let in on the big secrets. Interrupting his workflow specifically at this time of night has a purpose, though. He’s figured out that much.
Kunikida yawned, amazed that Dazai isn’t out yet, before reaching for a coffee cup. No, no coffee, it is too late for coffee. Maybe a bit of coffee. Caffeine dependency is incredibly unprofessional, but maybe some tea? It could help him sleep better. Then again, some teas have caffeine in them. He opened a cabinet and checked the list taped inside, a helpful chart of what teas do and do not keep him awake.
He did not make that chart after realizing he may have a sleeping problem, because he does not have a sleeping problem. It would be a waste of time to stare at the ceiling thinking why did he do this, or not do that, how could he have failed when he should’ve succeeded, who would even listen to his ideals when he so frequently refuses to live up to them—
Kunikida closed the cabinet much too loudly, turning so his back is to the kitchen counter. Why do his hands keep shaking? They shouldn’t even be there. He lost them, and now they’re back, because he cheated, but he deserved to lose any ability to write out his ideals, to use his skills to make them a reality as easy as words coming alive on the page—
Kunikida dug his nails into his palms, exhaling slowly. Hand tremors do not have to be indicative of previous trauma to them. After all, Yosano made sure that his healing was undeservedly perfect. They can also occur because of sleep disorders.
He does not have one of those. Kunikida’s the poster child of order, so claiming that he has a disorder is preposterous. Although according to his research, insomnia isn’t the person’s fault, and instead just occurs because of stress or anxiety. He refuses to believe he has either of those, when the entire point of his ideals is to lessen that mental workload.
Then again, he’s partnered with Dazai. The village idiot would delight in knowing that he keeps Kunikida up at night with his antics. Like running off to solve problems without telling anybody, constantly trying to die, not caring to check in if he’s kidnapped or some such so Kunikida’s already convinced he’s dead and pretending not to grieve over it, instead burying himself in his work. He was not worried when Dazai disappeared into a Port Mafia base. He also had no concerns when Atsushi was taken in a shipping crate a fraction of time later. He couldn’t be afraid for them, he had a schedule to keep.
Sometimes he looks at Atsushi, remembers how he almost left him on that ship, and feels like throwing up. How could he do that to a kid who believes in him? Is that a part of his ideals? Is he truly that complacent in his life, that if something ruins his idea of a good work day, he’ll just not do it? What kind of code does he live by if he’s at peace with that?
“Kunikidaaaaaa.” Dazai, hair still wet, poked his head out of the bathroom. “I can hear you thinking in my shower. It’s annoying.”
“You’ve been in there long enough,” Kunikida replied, snapping back to reality and hating that whatever ploy this is, he’s falling for it. “Get dressed and go.”
“I can’t stay the night?”
“We’re not children, Dazai.”
“Adults stay the night.”
“Or lovers.”
Dazai gave him a so-so gesture when this is not a conversation to only be so-so about. Kunikida almost ripped the door off its hinges in his desperation to grab Dazai by the neck and wring it. Dazai usually goes limp when this happens, like it’s a game and he’s a doll to toss around, but this time he tensed into a flinch.
Kunikida’s fingers brushed bare skin before he could figure out why Dazai was so afraid. He never squeezes hard enough to leave bruises, but the flesh is too purpled to be anything else. He froze, eyes slowly traveling to where the sleeves of his new clothes stopped at more bare skin. More scars and bruises.
He feels sick again. Kunikida dropped Dazai immediately, crossing his arms because he had no idea where else to put his hands. In this moment, his partner probably wishes he kept his arms lopped off at the wrist, or was pressing one hand on his chest as Yosano worked so it would kill him without bringing him back. It’s not a hard rule not to touch Dazai’s skin where the bandages are, but it’s so obvious that he knows to respect it. Except for tonight, of course, when he decided to be a ridiculous idiot who overthinks and underthinks at the same time.
“Sorry,” Kunikida bit out, since there’s nothing else to say. “I’d just prefer if you left to your own dorm. I have things to do.”
“But Kunikida, my bandages are ruined, and you don’t want the younger members seeing these ugly things.” Dazai showed off the raised edges of keloids on his wrists, what would be thin marks instead spilling into flared bumps on major arteries. “You have no choice but to let me stay the night.”
“I have more bandages under the sink.”
“I stole them the last time I was here to change mine.” Dazai opened the compartment with his foot, showing off the starkly empty space. “You should make a note of that after we get some sleep.”
“I can’t yet. I have some other things to take care of.”
“You’ve scheduled ‘checking your schedule’ to be later and later and later and later and later.” With each “later”, Dazai inched more into his personal space, an unfair advantage since Kunikida didn’t dare shove him off after his previous faux pas. Dazai rested his chin on Kunikida’s shoulder with a pout. “You can do it in the morning instead, when you don’t have a guest to entertain.”
“How am I entertaining you by sleeping?”
“By letting me into your much better futon!”
“My futon can’t hold two people.”
Dazai blew a raspberry, untangling himself to totter over to the sliding door. “Yes it can.”
“You can have the futon, I’ll sleep on the tatami.”
“Nope.” Dazai lifted the cover and grabbed Kunikida’s ankle, his partner dragging his nails on the floor to avoid being stuck in the stupid thing with him. “You’re getting a good night’s sleep, and that’s happening in the futon.”
“That’s what this is about?” Kunikida twisted to shout in his face. “I sleep perfectly fine!”
“I can see the bags under your glasses.”
“Like you can comment on my habits, you crab-eating waste!”
“Eating crab makes you less suicidal!”
“Really?”
“Yeah. You should write it down.”
Kunikida’s eyebrow twitched. “Are you messing with me?”
“Absolutely.” If Dazai wasn’t sporting bruises from collar to jawline, Kunikida would strangle him again. The man smiled innocently as he tucked the cover around Kunikida’s shoulders. “Take your glasses off and get rid of that hair tie. We’re sleeping.”
“I do not need a grown man to tell me to go to bed.”
“I can get Ranpo.”
“He’s also a grown man!”
“Yeah, but you and him don’t have the chummy relationship that we do.” Dazai propped his chin up on the heel of his hand, finding it in him to be serious while wearing someone else’s pajamas. “The agency relies on you whether you like it or not, Kunikida. I’m doing my job of making sure you stick around for them.”
“You could do your job by writing your reports for once.”
“Meh.”
“And missing a few hours of sleep won’t kill me!”
“Actually it leads to high blood pressure and heart disease.”
“You’re messing with me.”
“Am I?”
Kunikida chewed the inside of his cheek, not confident on whether he can deny it. Dazai snatched the hair tie from his ponytail, stretching it over his thumb. With a snap, it shot across the room and turned off the light.
“Glasses off. Sleep now.”
Kunikida grumbled a particularly creative insult to Dazai’s character as he folded them and set them far enough to the side that he can’t crush them if he turns in his sleep. Fine. If he has to do this for one night, then he’ll allow it.
He does not stay awake because he feels guilty. He isn’t anxious or stressed. He never regrets his actions to the point of curling over a pained stomach. Nope. He sleeps normally, and he’s going to prove it, so he never has to endure this humiliation again.
Seriously, Dazai telling him that he’s not living his life in a healthy way is a new low. But he implied that Ranpo brought it up, so maybe this is that detective’s doing? His Super Deduction always catches things that even the target of it misses inside themselves.
Or it’s a fluke, and Ranpo’s wrong. That would be ideal.
Now he has to go through every single thing he’s done that would imply that he needs someone to watch for his nonexistent insomnia. Dazai mentioned that he has a haggard face, but he doesn’t see it in the mirror. He’s either lying, or Kunikida didn’t notice the transition. He admittedly did change his order in the cafe from a single shot latte to a double shot, but he could just want that extra boost to deal with more paperwork. And yes, he has been slightly more sluggish in that paperwork, but he’s doing Dazai’s, too, so it’s to be expected. He shows up before anyone else, so he wakes up before anyone else, and it’s not like Ranpo sees him stumble through the dorm with stars in his eyes because he didn’t get a wink. He only has two bruises from running into the table! Is he too zombie-ish when he grabs his lunch from the fridge? Does he concede too often now to Dazai’s antics because he’s just too tired to deal with them?
Maybe that last one is true, because he’s conceding to an antic right now.
“Can you stop staring at me like I’m trying to kill you?” Dazai cut through the haze with a hand digging into Kunikida’s scalp. The scars on his forearm scratched his face as he kneaded stupid circles into his hair. “Just turn your brain off.”
“I thought you of all people would know that’s impossible.”
“Yeah, but you can try it. I try it with alcohol, and suffocation, and this one beautiful—”
“I got it, Dazai.” He twisted to face away. “You want to die.”
“Yep!”
“I don’t.”
“With your schedule it certainly seems like you do.”
“Don’t even joke about that.”
“What? I’m serious.” Those grubby fingers got stuck in his hair again, but they weren’t trying to knot it up like he thought. It felt like a crap attempt at braiding it. “Freaking out over everything’s going to kill you. You should chill like me and Ranpo.”
“Didn’t you say that the agency relies on me?”
“I’m saying not to work yourself into the ground, not that I want you to set the building on fire with laziness.”
“You almost set the building on fire with laziness!”
“I promise, the kitchen was like that when I started my nap.”
“Okay. I’m sleeping. See?”
“Great. Let me know if you need anything.”
Kunikida will not do that. He closed his eyes, hating how the massage to his scalp lulled him to a calmer spot of his mind. Anytime anyone else messes with his hair, it’s like they want to jerk his head around the room. Dazai had practice. Maybe there’s someone else he did this with.
He should make a note of that, too.
Everything felt heavy and slow, tiny fragments of shaky memories. He kept thinking he woke up, only to have darkness and someone muttering that he’s fine, and should just ignore it. His sleep-addled mind obeyed.
When he finally pulled himself from that spot, the sun forced his eyes open. He’s facing both Dazai and the window, one arm stretched under both of their heads. Dazai’s texting with a small smile.
This is wrong. He always sets his alarm at dawn. Also, upon further examination, that’s his phone that Dazai is using. “Give me that!” He snatched it from his hands and looked at the most recent messages.
It’s a picture of Kunikida with the flash illuminating his sleeping face, his eyebrows pinched with worry even while he dreams.
DK: mission accomplished. pay up
ER: :D
“What did Ranpo promise you for getting a picture of me sleeping?” Kunikida asked incredulously.
“That he’d do my paperwork instead for the foreseeable future whenever he isn’t on a job. Also, it wasn’t just a picture of you sleeping, it’s that you needed to sleep tonight period. His Super Deduction would tell him it happened the moment you walked in through the door, but…” Dazai clicked out of the chat to show his messages to the president.
DK: very sick cant come to work
YF: Oh dear. Are you alright, Doppo?
DK: ahhhhh barf so much oh noo im so sick
YF: Do you have someone with you transcribing this?
DK: yeah this is dazai. im not learning how k types
DK: but hes not coming to work hes so tired from being sick and such
DK: dont ask him any details hes embarrassed and never wants to mention this
YF: I would never. Tell him to feel better soon!
YF: Also please return his phone to him. Seeing this text from him was unsettling.
DK: will do
“You can’t just use my phone to text people, you bastard.”
“But I got you a whole day off! If I did it from my phone no one would believe me.” Dazai sighed like that’s not a reputation he squarely earned, lacing his fingers under his head. “So don’t try to go into the office at noon.”
“It’s not—” It’s noon. Kunikida gawked at the clock in the corner of his phone. He just got blinded by the sun because it reflected off of the neighbor’s roof. He slept until noon. “Why didn’t you wake me?”
“Because you kept waking yourself. Grabbing the comforter and whimpering and twisting all around. You needed a few hours of actual sleep.” Dazai pointed at the window. “And I couldn’t figure out your alarm clock so it’s outside now.”
“The neighbors will hate us for that.”
“We’ll blame it on the Tanizakis.”
“I’m not blaming other people for my screwups!”
Dazai shrugged. “Well, I’m your babysitter because you’re just so sick. What do you want to do today?”
“Go to work, Dazai.”
“Nope. I’m not allowed to leave until Yosano gets here.”
“Why did you call her?”
“Because if you refuse my method of turning my brain off with sake, then you probably want one of the healthier solutions.” He drummed out a beat on the comforter, his knobbly wrists ghastly in the sunlight. “You know, medication.”
“I do not need medication for anxiety.”
“Oh? I thought it was stress, but anxiety would do it too, yeah.” Dazai nodded sagely, but it had a cunning to it, like Kunikida just let him win a game of chess without realizing it. “Just general insomnia-causing brain mess.”
“Dazai. Tell Yosano that she is not needed.”
“Then you’re stuck with me all day. And Ranpo said that if you don’t at least see a doctor today, then he’s going to be your watchman tonight. And then I’ll be here tomorrow night, and we’re going to keep doing that pattern until you talk to someone. Also, we’ll tell the president it’s something awful, like a horrible flu that won’t leave for weeks, maybe months! Strict quarantine, you know.”
“You’re holding my work hostage?”
“If you don’t work, I don’t work, so I see this as a win-win. Also, you’re less fun when you’re too wired about other stuff to pay attention to me messing with you. I tried so hard to throw your schedule off yesterday and you barely yelled at me!”
“You forced me to go to bed early last night.”
“Last night’s different from yesterday.”
“I am not anxious or stressed!”
“Tell that to the doc, partner.” Dazai ran his finger in a ring around Kunikida’s arm, like he’s cutting it off again. “Either way, you need to convince us that your heart won’t pop if we let you back into the office. Can you start with why you kept mumbling about your hands while you slept?”
This should be an awful day, but it ended up frustratingly fine. He felt more rested than he had in months, and he only had to talk to Dazai for a minimum of five hours before Yosano showed up. She listened to him for a bit and then shoved two pill bottles in his hands, claiming that he can’t pretend to forget to fill a prescription if she fills it for him.
Two pills to take every night, one for anxiety, one for sleep.
He does not have anxiety. He has a schedule. Yes, he sometimes has to schedule in a crying session or mental breakdown, but it keeps him together. He’s not overly stressed or anxious after almost losing his ideals, his ability, his partner, his life, his world—
The medication hurt going down, but his hands don’t shake as much now.